Sunday In The South

Mill worker houses lined up in a row

Another southern Sunday's morning glow

Beneath the steeple, all the people have begun

Shakin' hands with the man who grips the gospel gun

While in quiet prayer, the smell of dinner on the ground

Fills up the morning air, ain't nothin' sweeter around

I can almost hear my momma pray

"Oh Lord, forgive us when we doubt"

Another sacred Sunday in the south, alright

A ragged rebel flag flies high above it all

Poppin' in the wind like an angry cannon ball

Now the holes of history are cold and still

They still smell the powder burning and they probably always will

And on the old town square under the barber shop pole

They sat me up in the chair when I was four years old

I can almost hear my poppa saying

"Won't you hold still, son, stop squirming around"

Another southern Sunday's coming down

I can almost hear the old folks say

"You'll make it big one day, you'll leave this town

Some other lazy Sunday you'll be back around", alright

I can feel the evenin' sun go down

And all the lights in the houses one by one go out

Softly in the distance nothin' stirs about

And the night is filled with the sound of a whippoorwill

On a Sunday in the south, alright

Just another Sunday

Just another Sunday in the south

Ooh, just another Sunday

Oh, another sacred Sunday in the south

I can hear my mama callin', that evenin' sun is fallin'

I missed them old sweet Sundays, ooh

Oh, another sacred Sunday

I can hear my mama callin', in the south, alright

Yeah, just another Sunday (oh, whoa), in the south

Oh, another sacred Sunday