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Where the waters flow with confidence and reason
Though I miss her when I'm gone, it won't ever be too long
Till I'm home again to spend my favorite season

When God made me born a yankee, he was teasin'
There's no place like home and none more pleasin'
Than the southland in the springtime

In Georgia nights are softer than a whisper
Beneath the quilt somebody's mother made by hand
With the farmland like a tapestry passed down through generations
And the peach trees stitched across the land

There'll be cider up near Helen off the roadside
And boiled peanuts in a bag to warm your fingers
And the smoke from the chimneys meets it's maker in the sky
With a song that winter wrote whose melody lingers

And there's something 'bout the southland in the springtime
Where the waters flow with confidence and reason
Though I miss her when I'm gone, it won't ever be too long
Till I'm home again to spend my favorite season

When God made me born a yankee he was teasin'
There's no place like home and none more pleasin'
Than the southland in the springtime