text: Theres a porch swing in tupelo
  In the shade of the south
  Where the sweet honey drips off that old hush-your-mouth
  Its a slow road on down
  That old natchez trace
  Through alabama cotton fields to a state of grace
  Its a crisp golden autumn
  On the tennessee line
  Rolling down to mississippi like you headed back in time
  Towns closed on Sunday
  Everybodys in church
  Its empty as the moon this place here on earth
  And this place dont change
  Some places move slow
  Im just rocking myself on this porch swing in tupelo
  I got nothing to do except hang in the breeze
  Ghosts of the old south are all around me
  Yea swing high, yea swing low
  Here on this porch swing in tupelo
  His mama must have loved him
  That truck driving boy
  With the grease monkey look and the rock and roll voice
  Well i was just thinking about him
  Because I guess he sat here
  Singing all praise to god through povertys tears
  Here on this porch swing in tupelo