4:33 · unknown
Lyrics
[Intro ☕] (Acoustic guitar bounce, light fiddle entrance) Now I'm gonna tell you 'bout a Sunday afternoon, My daughter Connie, thirteen years old, And the moment the whole room went to the moon. [Verse 1 🔥] Now Connie had a talent from an early age, Could light up certain words like they was center stage— Out there in the schoolyard with her crew of friends, She'd drop a wordy dird that never seemed to end. Her girlfriends thought she was a certified queen, Sharpest little mouth the playground'd ever seen— She'd season every sentence just to make 'em laugh, Never once imagined it would cut her life in half. [Verse 2 ☕] Now Grandma Opal wasn't churchy, wasn't soft, She'd tell you what was what and she'd tell you right up front— A woman built like bedrock, sharp eyes, iron will, The kind of glare that freezes you completely still. We rolled up to her trailer on that Sunday afternoon, The smell of something good and the whole family in the room— Connie settled in and started feeling right at home, Forgot for just one second she wasn't on her own— [Pre-Chorus] [Energy: Building] She was laughing at a story, Getting loose and feeling fine— Forgot exactly who was sitting Right across the table— And she crossed that county line— [Chorus 🔥] [Energy: Explosive] Wordy Dird! Landed right there at the table like a thunderclap— Wordy Dird! Every sister's jaw just fell right in their lap— Connie's hand flew to her mouth But honey, words don't fly back— And Grandma Opal slowly turned around— [Spoken - deadpan] ...and that was that. [Verse 3 ☕] [Energy: Low] Now Opal didn't holler, Didn't preach and didn't yell— She just fixed those eyes on Connie Like a heat-seeking missile from— Well. The sisters stared into their cups, Not one of 'em would breathe— Dad was somewhere in the back Pretending not to see— Thirteen years of that particular word, Never once felt shame— But Grandma Opal's glare could make A tornado change its name. [Pre-Chorus] [Energy: Building] Opal smoothed her hands across the table, Set her sweet tea down real slow— Looked at Connie with those eyes— The kind that let you know— You know— [Chorus 🔥] [Energy: High] Wordy Dird! Still echoing around that trailer like a shot— Wordy Dird! Connie turning every color that she's got— Hand flew to her mouth But the legend had been born— Right there in Grandma Opal's kitchen On that Sunday morn'. [Bridge 😄] [Energy: Low] (Fiddle drops, guitar finger-picked softly) Now Grandma Opal's gone to glory, And Connie's got her own kids now— And somewhere at somebody's table History's taking a bow— 'Cause thirteen-year-olds have a way Of forgetting where they are— And Opal's still out there somewhere Watching from her star— Probably still glaring. [Final Chorus 🔥] [Energy: Explosive] Wordy Dird! We still tell this story every time we're all together— Wordy Dird! Ties this crazy family up like a tether— Connie's hand flew to her mouth But the damage had been done— The day she dropped a Wordy Dird on Opal— Lord, that was fun. [Outro ☕] [Fade Out] (Acoustic guitar, fiddle, gentle country bounce) Wordy Dird... Yeah, Grandma heard... Wordy Dird... Connie's face was a blur... Wordy Dird... Opal's glare said it all... Wordy Dird... Greatest moment of them all... 🔥 😍 😱 🙌 👍 😎 🥵