Alabama - Cane For Your Coffee

Confederate cotton cloaks our bones,
We're as Southern as the Mason Dixon line.
The Crimson Tide comes alive each Autumn,
With Dixie crops that taste so divine.
When the Alabama sun relents in its heat,
The Autumn brings on the Harvest Moon.
Thanksgiving has both sorrow and joy,
We sing along with a sweet Dixie tune.
Country living is central to our lives,
It's as American as freedom that speaks.
The fruits of our labour, we soulfully sing,
In voices that know the valleys and peaks.
Southern skies thunder with Hellish fear,
Yet , hurricanes wouldn't move us from here.
We thrive on cotton, sugar and nicotine,
The Dixie loam yields a bumper each year.
We still kick up the Dixie dust,
As we accelerate under Southern skies.
The richness of the Delta soil,
Brings a welcomed vision to our eyes.
We boogie on a harmonious Crimson Tide,
We're good ol' boys who live without strife.
The Mississippi muddies our blood with its wake,
While the cane sweetens our outlook on life.

WAYNE MANNION
PLATINUM BULLET LYRICS