Sunday in the South (Feat. Jason Aldean & Shenandoah)
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Mill worker houses lined up in a rowAnother southern Sunday's morning glowBeneath the steeple all the people have begunShakin' hands with the man who grips the gospel gunWhile in quiet prayer, the smell of dinner on the groundFills up the morning air, ain't nothin' sweeter aroundI can almost hear my Momma prayingOh Lord forgive us when we doubtanother sacred Sunday in the south, alrightA ragged rebel flag flies high above it allPoppin' in the wind like an angry cannon ballNow the holes of history are cold and stillBut they still smell the powder burningand they probably always willAnd on the old town square under the barber shop poleThey sat me up in the chair when I was four years oldI can almost hear my Poppa sayingWon't you hold still son, stop squirming aroundAnother southern Sunday's coming downI can almost hear the old folks sayYou'll make it big one dayYou'll leave this townSome other lazy SundayYou'll be back around, alrightI can feel the evenin' Sun go downAnd all the lights in the houses one by one go outSoftly in the distance nothin' stirs aboutAnd the night is filled with the sound of a whippoorwillOn a Sunday in the south, alrightJust another SundayJust another Sunday in the southOoh, just another SundayOh, another sacred Sunday in the southI can hear my mama callin', that evenin' Sun is fallin'I missed them old sweet Sundays, oohOh, another sacred SundayI can hear my mama callin', in the south, alrightYeahJust another Sunday (Oh, whoa) , in the southOh, another sacred Sunday
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Sunday in the South (Feat. Jason Aldean & Shenandoah)Luke Bryan
Mill worker houses lined up in a row
Another southern Sunday's morning glow
Beneath the steeple all the people have begun
Shakin' hands with the man who grips the gospel gun
While in quiet prayer, the smell of dinner on the ground
Fills up the morning air, ain't nothin' sweeter around
I can almost hear my Momma praying
Oh Lord forgive us when we doubt
another sacred Sunday in the south, alright
A ragged rebel flag flies high above it all
Poppin' in the wind like an angry cannon ball
Now the holes of history are cold and still
But they still smell the powder burning
and they probably always will
And on the old town square under the barber shop pole
They sat me up in the chair when I was four years old
I can almost hear my Poppa saying
Won't you hold still son, stop squirming around
Another southern Sunday's coming down
I can almost hear the old folks say
You'll make it big one day
You'll leave this town
Some other lazy Sunday
You'll be back around, alright
I can feel the evenin' Sun go down
And all the lights in the houses one by one go out
Softly in the distance nothin' stirs about
And the night is filled with the sound of a whippoorwill
On a Sunday in the south, alright
Just another Sunday
Just another Sunday in the south
Ooh, just another Sunday
Oh, another sacred Sunday in the south
I can hear my mama callin', that evenin' Sun is fallin'
I missed them old sweet Sundays, ooh
Oh, another sacred Sunday
I can hear my mama callin', in the south, alright
Yeah
Just another Sunday (Oh, whoa) , in the south
Oh, another sacred Sunday
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