| Heart of Gold |
|---|
| If I had a heart of gold |
| As some folks I know |
| I’d up and sell my heart of gold |
| And head north with the dough |
| But I don’t have a heart of gold |
| My heart’s not even lead |
| It’s made of clay, old Georgia clay |
| And that’s why my heart is red |
| I wonder why red clay |
| So red and Georgia sky, so blue |
| I wonder why it’s yes to me |
| And yessir, sir to you |
| I wonder why the sky so blue |
| And why the clay so red |
| Way down south is always down |
| And never up instead |
