Tono: F
Introducción:
F7 Bb F7 Bb
I wanna go back to dixie,
Bb7 Eb
Take me back to dear ol' dixie,
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That's the only li'l ol' place for li'l ol' me.
F7 Bb Bb7
Ol' times there are not for-gotten,
Eb
Whoppin' slaves and sellin' cotton,
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And waitin' for the robert E. Lee.
spoken - (it was never there on time.)
Bb
I'll go back to the swanee,
Bb7
Where pel-lagra makes you scrawny,
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And the jasmine and the tear gas spell just fine.
Bb Bbº F7
I really am a-fixin'
Bb Fm6 G7
To go back where there's no mixin'
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Down below that mason-dixon line.
C
Poll Tax. How I love ya, How I love ya.
C7 C
My Dear Ole Poll Tax
(SPOKEN)
Bb Bb7 Eb Ebm
Won'tcha come with me to alabammy,
Bb Bb7 Eb Ebm
Back to the arms of my dear ol' mammy,
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Her cookin's lousy and her hands are clammy,
Bb F7 Bb
But what the hell, it's home.
F7 Fº F7
SUNG - Yes, for paradise the southland is my nominee.
F7 Fº F7
Jes' give me a ham hock and a grit of hominy.
F7 Bb F7 Bb
I wanna start relaxin'
Bb7 Eb
Down in Birmingham or Jackson.
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And have some fun while no one interferes
Bb Bb7
I wanna talk with southern gentlemen
Eb Eº
And put my white sheet on again,
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I ain't seen one good lynchin' in years.
Bb
The land of the boll weevil,
Bb7
Where the laws are medieval,
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Is callin' me to come and nevermore roam.
Bb Bº F7
I wanna go back to the southland,
Bb Bº F7
That "y'all" and "shut-my-mouth" land,
Bb F7 Bb F7
Be it e--ver
Bb Ab G7
so dec-a-dent,
C7 F7 Bb F7 Bb
There's no place like home.