Millworker 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 the quiet prayer
The smell of dinner on the ground
Fills up the mornin air
ain't nothin sweeter around
I can almost hear my momma pray
Oh Lord forgive us, when we doubt
another sacred Sunday in the South
Verse 2
I can almost hear the old folks say
you'll make it big one day and leave this town
it's another lazy Sunday, back around
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 whipperwhill
on a sunday in the south allright
repeat intro until end
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