THE SOUTH
Majestic oaks and velvety magnolias,
The wide Mississippi and long dripping moss,
Huckleberry Finn and Uncle Tom, both have told ya,
Moving away is one's biggest loss.
I yearn for the slow ways, and warm, gentle breezes.
I yearn for the beauty and for people who are warm.
I yearn for the ices, snow cones, all kinds of 'freezes.'
I yearn most of all for smooth Southern charm.
I long for lazy bayous, the cooking, the fish,
I long for sunny smiles and friendly waves,
I long for millions of the things that I miss,
Spending my time now, so far away.
I long for the lushness of foliage so green,
I long for the warm, slow drawl of the talk,
I long for warm rains, and slow, lazy dreams,
If e'er I get back there, I'll nevermore walk.
The hospitality, congeniality, and warm, gentle faces,
The chance to do business with merely a hand shake,
A Southern belle's blush, and sweet, gentle graces,
The strength of a friendship in the midst of heartache.
Sipping iced tea on cool Southern porches,
Or working and sweating on hot afternoons,
The camaraderie, the caring human resources,
Are missed when you leave, alas, all too soon.
