SON OF THE SOUTH
Writer Bill Anderson
I was born eatinâ gravy and black-eyed peas
Cracklinâ bread and turnip greens
Washinâ âem down with a big
Iâm a son of the south
Iâve picked tomatoes off of the vine
Watermelon in the summertime
Ate âem in the shade of a Georgia pine
Iâm a son of the south
Iâm a son of a son of a son of the south
For generations of âbless your heartâ
And âhoney chile, hush your mouthâ
My great grandaddy knew Robert E. Lee
I knew Elvis and he knew me
I learned about Jesus at my mamaâs 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 Iâve got a little boy six years old
He knows and he didnât have to be told
He was born with a whole lot of soul
Heâs a son of the south
Heâs already picked cotton and a little guitar
Drank his milk from a mason jar
He knows good and well where his roots are
Heâs a son of the south
Spoken:
Save your confederate money, boys
Iâm a son of the south.
