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I woke up this morning to the humming of the engines |
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Hauling nature's finest from the Gulf of Mexico |
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Ridin' this ol' river is peaceful but it's lonesome |
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It makes wonder how the old folks are at home |
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Now the years have blown by me like the wind through the pines |
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But the song of the south is ever sweet as homemade wine |
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Oh how I miss those mountains when the Laurels are in bloom |
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And the southern stars are dancin' 'round a North Carolina moon |
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Just rolled through Memphis I could hear them guitar's a playing |
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They had the blues so bad it almost broke my heart |
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Don't sound nothing like a band of tree frogs singing |
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When every now and then they'd get in tune with grandpa's harp |
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Now the years have blown by me like the wind through the pines |
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But the song of the south is ever sweet as homemade wine |
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Oh how I miss those mountains when the Laurels are in bloom |
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And the southern stars are dancin' 'round a North Carolina moon |
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When I die boys make me this promise |
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You'll send my body back up North Carolina way |
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I don't want no tombstone just lay me next to mama |
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And let the honeysuckle grow wild upon my grave |
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Now the years have blown by me like the wind through the pines |
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But the song of the south is ever sweet as homemade wine |
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Oh how I miss those mountains when the Laurels are in bloom |
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And the southern stars are dancin' 'round a North Carolina moon) |
