| Head south in the mornin':
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| Just take off with no warnin'
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| Tell your boss you need a change of scene
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| Head south if you’re feelin'
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| Your homesick heart is reelin'
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| An' get yourself a bowl of butter beans
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| Anywhere east of the Rio Grande
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| Get you a cane pole in your hand:
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| Fry a mess of fish up on the bank
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| You cross that Mason-Dixon line
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| Leave your cares an' worries behind:
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| Sit out under a Willow tree an' think
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| Head south: are you listenin'?
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| You don’t know what you’re missin'
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| From Virgina shores to the Gulf of Mexico
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| Well, head south to Kentucky
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| Blue Ridge Mountains if you’re lucky
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| From the Florida Keys to the banks of the Ohio. |
| (Ohio.)
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| You will feel the heart of Texas swing;
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| Dixieland down in New Orleans;
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| Delta blues on the side of a riverbank
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| Your Country Soul down in Tenessee;
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| An' that Mountain Music’s all right by me
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| Hot Jambalaya, you’re in the land of Hank
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| (Oh, hit it.)
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| (Tickle that ivory, yeah, aw yeah.)
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| (Mmm, mm, that’s all right.)
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| (Oh, yeah.)
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| Head south, good God almighty
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| Ain’t the thought of it excitin'?
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| Crab cakes, corn bread, crawfish an' barbecyue
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| Head south, horn of plenty
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| For the few an' the many
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| All the south is missin', man, is you, yeah
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| All the south is missin', man, is you
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| (Da, da, da. Da, da, da.)
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| Aw, hah |