SON OF THE SOUTH
|
Writer Bill Anderson
|
|
I was born eatin’ gravy and black-eyed peas
|
Cracklin’ bread and turnip greens
|
Washin’ ‘em down with a big
|
I’m a son of the south
|
I’ve picked tomatoes off of the vine
|
Watermelon in the summertime
|
Ate ‘em in the shade of a Georgia pine
|
I’m a son of the south
|
I’m a son of a son of a son of the south
|
For generations of “bless your heart”
|
And “honey chile, hush your mouth”
|
My great grandaddy knew Robert E. Lee
|
I knew Elvis and he knew me
|
I learned about Jesus at my mama’s knee
|
Like every good son of the south
|
I had one grandaddy was a preacher man
|
He loved the lord and he hated sin
|
He used to let me go to church with him
|
He was a son of the south
|
My other grandpappy ran a moonshine still
|
Up in the woods high on a hill
|
He took me there once and that was a thrill
|
He was a son of the south
|
Now I’ve got a little boy six years old
|
He knows and he didn’t have to be told
|
He was born with a whole lot of soul
|
He’s a son of the south
|
He’s already picked cotton and a little guitar
|
Drank his milk from a mason jar
|
He knows good and well where his roots are
|
He’s a son of the south
|
Spoken:
|
Save your confederate money, boys
|
I’m a son of the south.
|
|
-----------------
|
Son Of The South
|
| Del Reeves |
