Melody

Dry Plate Tintype 4×5

Song of the South your music
weaves a magic spell
Song of the South, I see
the scenes I know so well
Cottonwoods in blossom
over my cabin door
Pale moonlight on a field of white
You bring them back once more

I seem to hear those gentle
voices calling low
Out of the long long ago
This heart of mine is in the heart of Dixie
That’s where I belong
Singing a song, a Song of the South.

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