Shenandoah - Sunday In The South Lyrics
Mill worker houses lined up in a row,another southern sunday morning blowBeneath the steeple all the people have begunshakin' hands with the man who grips the gospel gunWhile the quiet prayer, the smell of dinner on the groundheals up the morning air, ain't nothin' sweeter aroundI can almost hear my mama pray:"Oh lord forgive us when we doubt,"another sacred sunday in the southA ragged rebel flag flies high above it allpopping in the wind like an angry cannon ballThe holes of history are cold and still,but they smell the powder burnin' and they probably always willAnd on the old town square under the barber shop pole,they sat me up in the chair when I was four years oldI can almost hear my papa say:"Won't you hold still son, stop squirmn' aroundanother sacred sundays coming down"(Instrumental break)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 come back around(Instrumental break)I can feel the evening sun go down,and all the lights in the houses one by one go outSoftly in the distance nothing stirs aboutand the night is filled with the sound of a whipporwilOn a sunday in the south
