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SON OF THE
Writer Anderson

I was eatin' gravy and black-eyed peas
Cracklin' bread and greens
Washin' 'em down a big
I'm a son of the
I've picked off of the vine
in the summertime
Ate 'em in the shade of a pine
I'm a son of the
I'm a son of a son of a son of the
For generations of "bless heart"
And "honey chile, your mouth"
My grandaddy knew Robert E. Lee
I Elvis and he knew me
I learned Jesus at my mama's knee
Like every good son of the
I had one grandaddy was a man
He loved the and he hated sin
He to let me go to church with him
He was a son of the
My grandpappy ran a moonshine still
Up in the woods on a hill
He took me there once and was a thrill
He was a son of the
Now I've got a little boy six old
He knows and he didn't to be told
He was with a whole lot of soul
a son of the south
He's already picked and a little guitar
Drank his milk a mason jar
He knows good and well his roots are
a son of the south

Save confederate money, boys
I'm a son of the south.