| I’m goin' home
|
| Down there among the fields of cotton
|
| Down where the folks have not forgotten me
|
| I feel blue just for a little girl I’m strong for
|
| Just for a certain one I long to see
|
| I’m goin' down aroun' my ALABAMY HOME
|
| I’m gonna see the bee that makes the honey comb
|
| The brindle cow will wag her tail
|
| As I fill up the pail I’ll chase the flies and
|
| I surmise she’ll moo, «Thanks to you
|
| «I'll feed the chicks, and mix some barley with their corn
|
| They love it so, I know they’ll cluck for luck each morn
|
| Then I will lie amid the hay
|
| And call it all a day
|
| Way down aroun' my ALABAMY HOME
|
| I’m goin' down aroun' my ALABAMY HOME
|
| I’m gonna see the bee that makes the honey comb
|
| The brindle cow will wag her tail
|
| As I fill up the pail I’ll chase the flies and
|
| I surmise she’ll moo, «Thanks to you
|
| «I'll feed the chicks, and mix some barley with their corn
|
| They love it so, I know they’ll cluck for luck each morn
|
| Then I will lie amid the hay
|
| And call it all a day
|
| Way down aroun' my ALABAMY HOME |