Amen Corner in April

Lyrics

[Intro]

[Verse 1]
Green jacket, you hang in the Butler Cabin,
forest wool pressed for April's first Sunday.
Sam Snead slipped you on in '49,
that single-breasted shield against the wind off Rae's Creek.
I trace your brass buttons, each one a secret handshake,
Clifford Roberts counting the members in his ledger,
March 6, 1894, his birth etched like a score.
You whisper of exclusions, women turned away until 2012,
Condoleezza and Darla finally crossing the threshold.

[Chorus]
Oh, green jacket, emblem of Amen Corner's trial,
holes 11, 12, 13—White Dogwood, Golden Bell, Azalea.
Bobby Jones dreamed you in 1930, after his Grand Slam,
retired at 28 to build this paradise on Fruitland Nursery soil.
You drape the victor, presented by last year's king,
in the cabin where cameras catch the tremble in their hands.

[Verse 2]
I hold you close, smell the azaleas timed with ice chips,
thousands blooming for the tournament week, sweet floral haze at 75 degrees.
Pimento cheese on white bread, $1.50 in green wax paper,
sharp cheddar and mayonnaise, a bite under the pines.
Herbert Warren Wind named the corner in '58,
inspired by jazz records, a spiritual bend where palms sweat.
Arnold Palmer at hole 12, April 9, 1961,
birdie sealing his second claim on you.

[Bridge]
Green jacket, you guard the gaps—unnamed groundskeepers planting those bushes,
their hands in the earth before dawn, 52 degrees on April 5, 1934.
Bobby walking the fairway, cigar smoke mingling with dew,
mockingbird calling over his vision.
What recipes hide in your pockets, the exact mix of exclusion and glory?

[Verse 3]
Now you wait for Sunday's final round, 2 PM tension,
crowds hushed as leaders approach the creek.
Fresh-cut grass at 1/8 inch on the greens,
sub-air systems humming beneath, controlling the fate.
I address you, my coveted cloth, intimate as a lover's coat,
wrapping the genius of Jones, born March 17, 1902.

[Outro]
Green jacket, you endure, from Roberts' strict hand to open gates,
April's bloom in Augusta, forever.