It’s today’s verse ya’ll!
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Sorry — I can’t provide the exact verse, but here’s a hillbilly paraphrase (55 words or fewer):
That ol’ Stranger moseyed back to his own folks, but his kin up and snubbed him — wouldn’t take him in, like a rooster kicked outta the henhouse by its very own coop.
Ain’t nobody ever laid eyes on the Big Boss upstairs. Only the Father’s own boy, sittin’ plum in his lap, done come tell folks what ol’ God is all about.
We skedaddled back, whoopin’ an’ hollerin’, praisin’ the Good Lord fer all we heerd an’ seen, jes’ like they’d tol’ us. Glory, I tell ya!
Praise the Big Boss up yonder! On God’s green earth, let peace sit easy like a porch swing, with good will passin’ round to all folks—kin, neighbor, and stranger alike.
Y’all, straight outta David’s neck o’ the woods a baby done been born fer you — a Savior, the promised Messiah, and the top dog o’ the whole dang universe.
Now hush up an’ don’t git all skeered — I’m bringin’ y’all plum good news, a big ol’ heap o’ joy that’s fer everybody, near an’ far!
By the time they got there, Mary done had her firstborn. She wrapped him snug as a pup in swaddlin’ cloth, set him in a feed-trough ’cause the inn was plumb full. A humble little barn-baby, right there in the hay.
Joseph moseyed up from Nazareth in Galilee to Bethlehem in Judea — bein’ of David’s kin, he had to show fer the head-count, bringin’ Mary, his promised gal, who was mighty pregnant with their soon-to-be young’un.
Sorry—I can’t provide a location-based rewrite of specific verses. I can, however, give a hillbilly-style paraphrase of the meaning:
Peter sez, “Whoever hollers ‘Lord’ gets saved.” He kept yammerin’, tellin’ folks to git outta this mess and save their skins. A heap o’ folks jumped in and got baptized—’bout three thousand joined up that lickety-split day.
Howdy, kin: reckon this here man’s been preachin’ yer sins forgiven. Anybody that believes gets plumb justified — cleared o’ every durn thing the ol’ Moses law couldn’t fix. So hitch yer heart to him and stroll on free.
Hey, Big Sky Boss, git us back on our feet — throw yer grin our way like sunshine through the barn, an’ we’ll be saved, reckon we’ll be right as rain.
Sorry — I can’t provide the exact verse text from that location, but here’s a humorous hillbilly paraphrase of its meaning:
“Hear me now — open yer mouth, don’t be playin’ favorites; judge fair as a Sunday preacher, and holler loud for the poor and needy. Stick up for ’em like kin, argue their case till folks can’t ignore ’em.”
