"Sunday In The South" lyrics

Mill worker houses lined up in a row
Another southern Sunday's morning glow
Beneath the steeple all the people have begun
Shaking hands with the man who grips the gospel gun

While the quiet prayer, the smell of dinner on the ground
Heals up the morning air, ain't nothing sweeter around
I can almost hear my Momma praying
"Oh Lord forgive us when we doubt", another sacred Sunday in the south oh

A ragged rebel flag flies high above it all
Popping 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 come back around"

I can feel the evening sun go down
And all the lights in the houses one by one go out
Softly in the distance nothing 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
Oh another sacred Sunday in the south
Just another Sunday
How I missed those old sweet Sundays in the south
Another sacred Sunday
I can hear my Momma calling
The south alright
Just another Sunday oh, oh, oh