| There’s fog up on the mountain |
| Frost is clinging to the ground |
| Days keep getting shorter |
| You know, the winter’s coming 'round |
| This sure ain’t the promised land |
| And I ain’t hanging 'round |
| I’m packin' up my traveling bag |
| And checking out of town |
| Put me on that Delta Line |
| Little Egypt to the sea |
| And find me some fine southern girl |
| To keep me company |
| Churning down the river |
| Magnolia on the breeze |
| And I’ll embrace my bayou belle |
| Gentle as you please |
| Been gone too long my honey |
| Now I’m going home |
| Where I should be |
| Whistle blow for Vicksburg |
| Not too far to go |
| I’m taking off these northern boots |
| And settin' free my toes |
| 'Gators on the muddy shore |
| Smile as if to say |
| Welcome back to Louisiana, boy |
| Hope you’re home to stay |
| Been gone too long my honey |
| Now I’m goin' home |
| Where I should be |
| (shoot, shoot, yeah) |
| Hey mama, dust my room now |
| (shoot, shoot, yeah) |
| Plump up the comforter on my bed |
| (shoot, shoot, yeah) |
| Well I say now, slay the fasted food now |
| (shoot, shoot, yeah) |
| And tell me everything the neighbor said |
| (shoot, shoot, yeah) |
| I’m going to swallow my pride |
| (shoot, shoot, yeah) |
| And pick it up and pack it in |
| (shoot, shoot, yeah) |
| Well, I’m going back to that southern pride |
| (shoot, shoot, yeah) |
| And down back the bourbon, and give up gin |
| (shoot, shoot, yeah) |
| And I see it on the back of my hand |
| (shoot, shoot, yeah) |
| And I’ll say goodbye to frigidaire |
| (shoot, shoot, yeah) |
| And I’ll say see you later to |
| (shoot, shoot, yeah) |
| Don’t recommend a thing I learned |
| (shoot, shoot, yeah) |
| Well I’m going home to the stars and bars |
| (shoot, shoot, yeah) |
| Well this great old city just looks like Mars |