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I wanna go back to Dixie,
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Take me back to dear ol' DIxie,
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That's the only li'l ol' place for li'l ol' me.
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Ol' times there are not forgotten,
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Whuppin' slaves and sellin' cotton,
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And waitin' for the Robert E. Lee.
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(It was never there on time.)
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I'll go back to the Swanee,
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Where pellagra makes you scrawny,
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And the jasmine and the tear gas smell just fine.
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I really am a-fixin'
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To go home and start a-mixin'
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Down below that Mason-Dixon line.
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Oh, poll tax, how I love ya, how I love ya,
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My dear old poll tax.
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Won'tcha come with me to Alabammy,
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Back to the arms of my dear ol' Mammy,
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Her cookin's lousy and her hands are clammy,
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But what the hell, it's home.
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Yes, for paradise the Southland is my nominee.
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Jes' give me a ham hock and a grit of hominy.
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I wanna start relaxin'
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Down in Birmingham or Jackson
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When we're havin' fun, why no one interferes.
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I wanna talk with Southern gentlemen
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And put my white sheet on again,
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I ain't seen one good lynchin' in years.
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The land of the boll weevil,
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Where the laws are medieval,
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Is callin' me to come and nevermore roam.
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I wanna go back to the Southland,
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That "y'all" and "shet-ma-mouth" land,
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Be it ever so decadent,
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There's no place like home.
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I Wanna Go Back To Dixie
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| Tom Lehrer |
