I wanna go back to Dixie
Take me back to dear ol' Dixie
That's the only li'l ol' place for li'l ol' me
Ol' times there are not forgotten
Whuppin' slaves and sellin' cotton
And waitin' for the Robert E. Lee.
It was never there on time

I'll go back to the Swanee
Where pellagra makes you scrawny
And the jazzmen and the tear gas smells just fine
I really am a-fixin'
To go home where there's no mixin'
Down below that Mason-Dixon line

Oh, poll tax, how I love ya, how I love ya
My dear old poll tax

Won'tcha come with me to Alabammy
Back to the arms of my dear ol' Mammy
Her cookin's lousy and her hands are clammy
But what the hell, it's home

Yes, for paradise the Southland is my nominee
Jes' give me a ham hock and a grit of hominy

I wanna start relaxin'
Down in Birmingham or Jackson
When we're having fun, why no one interferes
I wanna talk with Southern gentlemen
And put my white sheet on again
I ain't seen one good lynchin' in years

The land of the boll weevil
Where the laws are medieval
Is callin' me to come and nevermore roam
I wanna go back to the Southland
That y'all and shet-ma-mouth land
Be it ever so decadent
There's no place like home.
