A Southerner’s Prayer
Just had to stop and thank ‘ya, Lord,
For a place that I hold dear…
A place that’s filled with “Y’all come back!”
And “Sit ‘cherself down here!”
A magnolia-scented place it is…
A land of by-gone days,
Of “Southern Belles” and riverboats
And slower, pleasing ways.
Yes, thank ‘ya, Lord, for cotton fields,
For pecans and muscadines…
For that “Southern Hospitality”
That all here seem to find.
For a place where one finds lazy dreams
And slow, soft-spoken drawls…
Plantations stretching to the sky
Where “Old Man River” calls.
I reckon that I’ve said it all;
No place I’d rather be.
The South – that’s what we call it, Lord…
This land that’s home to me.