My father had skin like leather hands like steel
from a lifetime spent in the cottonfields And
though hed come home tired and dirty almost every night
he found the strength to smile at me and hold my mama tight
while that old transister radio would play the opry out in the hall
id sit and watch their shadows glide across the wall
And theyd dance to a dixie lullaby
picture of love beneath the southern sky
oh my what a beautiful life, just like a dixie lullaby
i left home at 18