Southland in the Springtime Maybe we'll make Texas by the morning
(Emily Saliers)
800 miles to El Paso from the state line
Light the bayou with our taillights in the night
I'm in the back seat sleepy from the travel
I'm dirty from the diesel fumes, drinking coffee black
And we never have the money for the flight
When the first breath of Texas comes in clean
Played ou hearts out all night long in New Orleans
And there's something bout the Southland in the springtime
Where the wtaers flow with confidence and reason
When God made me born a yankee He was teasin'
Till I'm home again to spend my favorite season
There's no place like home and none more pleasin'
Though I miss her when I'm gone it won't ever be too long
Than the Southland in the springtime
Beneath a quilt somebody's mother made by hand
In Georgia nights are softer than a whisper
With the farmland like a tapestry passed down through generations
And the peach trees stitched across the land
And boiled peanuts in a bag to warm your fingers
There'll be cider up near Helen off the roadside
And the smoke from the chimney meets its maker in the sky
Lyrics reprinted WP FYC by Trip N. Gregory
With a song that winter wrote whose melody lingers.
Reformatted and extracted to a single lyric file by Doug Henkle.
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