| Now bein' from the south,
|
| I never had a doubt,
|
| what kind of girl I’d want.
|
| I’d pick a Georgia peach,
|
| or a Mississippi queen,
|
| or a Dallas Debutante.
|
| But a met a little blonde from above and beyond
|
| the Mason-Dixon line,
|
| now she ain’t a dixie dumplin', but let me tell you something
|
| lord she more than qualifies.
|
| Chorus
|
| She like Elvis, she likes Andy
|
| She’s just as pretty as can be
|
| She’s the number one fan
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| both Graceland and Mayberry RFD
|
| She ain’t a Southern bele, but its hard to tell,
|
| She’s got every quality.
|
| She likes Elvis, she like Andy,
|
| so shes fine and dandy with me
|
| (Mucial interlude)
|
| I took her home for Christmas
|
| to try some Soutehrn dishes
|
| my mommas famous for.
|
| but momma through a fit
|
| 'cause she wouldn’t eat her grits
|
| it was lookin' like the civil war
|
| I was hopin' like the Devil
|
| that they’d meet up in the middle
|
| but neither one would budge
|
| then I heard 'em in the kitchen,
|
| laughin' and a gigglin'
|
| singin' hunk-a-hunk-a-burnin' love
|
| (Chorus)
|
| (Musical Interlude)
|
| (chorus)
|
| No she ain’t a Southern Belle, but its hard to tell
|
| She has every quality
|
| She like Elvis, she like Andy
|
| so she’s fine and dandy with me
|
| She like Elvis, she like Andy
|
| so she’s fine and dandy with me |