| Deep in the heart of Dixie
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| Where cotton’s still the king
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| If you slide on down to the delta
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| You can hear those banjos ring
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| Might be the muddy water
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| Comes in the spring with the rain
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| Or a poor boy down on parchment farm
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| At the end of a ball and chain
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| Singing one Mississippi is a long time
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| Gone in the blink of an eye
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| Two Mississippi is a lifetime
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| The years just drift on by
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| M i s s i s s i p p i
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| If you stand on the banks of the river
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| As the evening sun goes down
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| When the cattails shake and shiver
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| You can hear that lonesome sound
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| Might be the moon on the water
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| Or the old gray ghost in the trees
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| Or the scent of the sweet magnolia
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| Rising on the breeze
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| Singing one Mississippi is a long time
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| The days just drift on by
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| M i s s i s s i p p i
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| And the riverboat floats by like a ghost
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| On its way down to New Orleans
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| The paddle wheel turns the coal smoke burns
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| From the heart of the delta queen
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| If you head on past the levee
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| Down a road that’s got no name
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| There’s a white cross on the hillside
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| And the sign says 'Jesus Saves'
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| And when that congregation
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| Began to sing and shout
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| You could hear the rafters rattle
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| In the land of the cottonmouth
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| Singing one Mississippi is a long time
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| The days just drift on by
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| M i s s i s s i p p i |