The poem entitled 'Who We Are' by Margaret Britton Vaughn, Poet Laureate of Tennessee, is designated and adopted as the official poem of Tennessee's Bicentennial, which poem reads as follows:Who We AreThe Bicentennial of Tennessee1796-1996The fertile soil of TennesseeGrew more than corn, tobacco, and cotton,It grew a crop of people who areTrailblazers, child raisers, flag wavers, soul savers.Like the roots of the tulip poplar,Our feet are planted deeplyInto good living, neighbor giving, God fearing.Like the iris, buttercup and wild daisies,Our towns have sprung upIn valleys, basins, mountains, plains and plateausThat house cabins, mansions and hillside chateaus.We're the one-room schoolhouse in the hollow;We're the university grad and the front-porch scholar.We're Davy Crockett at the Alamo,Sergeant York, World War I hero.We're Cordell Hull who served Roosevelt;We're Chief Sequoyah and his Cherokee alphabet.We're W.C. Handy and the Memphis Blues;We're Ida B. Wells and Civil Rights news,And Grand Ole Opry with old wooden pews.We're 'Rocky Top' and 'Tennessee Waltz' the same;We're 'Star Spangled Banner' before the game.We're mockingbirds singing Appalachian folk songs;We're country s,And Grand Ole Opry with old wooden pews.We're 'Rocky Top' and 'Tennessee Waltz' the same;We're 'Star Spangled Banner' before the game.We're mockingbirds singing Appalachian folk songs;We're country church sing-alongs.We're hand clappers, toe tappers, knee slappersAnd Mama's lap lullaby nappers.We're Jackson, Johnson and James K. Polk;We're city slickers and poor hill folk;We're Anne Dallas Dudley and the Suffrage Vote.We're John Sevier, Don Sundquist and governors galore;We're congressmen, mayors and Vice President Gore.We're Wilma Rudolph's run for the goldAnd Sunday golfers' eighteenth hole.We're Christmas Eve and the Fourth of July;We're 4-H and homemade chess pie.We're TVA rivers, creeks and man-made lakes;We're ruts in dirt roads and interstates.We're all religions, creeds and peoples of race;We're Tennesseans who love the home place.We're the Volunteer State and will always beReady to go when someone's in need.As our trees turn green and our barns turn gray.We celebrate our two hundredth birthday.We know we've done our best, stood the test,And will be laid to restIn the fertile soil of Tennessee. Acts 1997, ch. 337, § 1.
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