I wanna go back to dixie, Take me back to dear ol’ dixie, That’s the only li’l ol’ place for li’l ol’ me Ol’ times there are not forgotten, Whuppin’ slaves and sellin’ cotton, And waitin’ for the robert e lee (it was never there on time) I’ll go back to the swanee, Where pellagra makes you scrawny, And the honeysuckle clutters up the vine I really am a-fixin’ To go home and start a-mixin’ Down below that mason-dixon line
Oh, poll tax, how I love ya, how I love ya, My dear old poll tax
Won’tcha come with me to alabammy, Back to the arms of my dear ol’ mammy, Her cookin’s lousy and her hands are clammy, But what the hell, it’s home Yes, for paradise the southland is my nominee Jes’ give me a ham hock and a grit of hominy
I wanna go back to dixie I wanna be a dixie pixie And eat cornpone ’til it’s comin’ outta my ears I wanna talk with southern gentlemen And put my white sheet on again, I ain’t seen one good lynchin’ in years The land of the boll weevil, Where the laws are medieval, Is callin’ me to come and nevermore roam I wanna go back to the southland, That "y’all" and "shet-ma-mouth" land, Be it ever so decadent, There’s no place like home