The Land of Gee and Haw
By Ted Lattourette Hansford.
I have a home I’m not ashamed of,
In the land of Gee and Haw,
Where Jeff Davis found a pile of rocks
And called it Arkansaw.
And I am going back to Flatrock,
Where the cornfed people stay,
And they make a little moonshine
Just to pass the time away.
I can see old Hank and Silas,
A firing up the drum
To run a drink that’s guaranteed
To put sorrow on the bum.
It glistens like the dewdrops,
At the dawn of early morn,
And you can smell the boys’ feet
That plowed the yaller corn.
It fills your heart with gratitude,
And keeps you feeling fine,
Like everybody was owin’ you
And you didn’t need a dime.
’Tis the land where satisfaction,
Peace, love and feuds reside,
And the farms they sit up edgeways;
You can farm on either side.
Where they dance from dark till daylight,
Calling swing, and balance all;
With the fiddler full o’ pine top,
Playing Turkey in The Straw.
When you read these lines, yours truly
Will be there for evermore,
Wading through the moonshine,
Singing Sailor on The Shore.
And my address, should you want me,
Will be Flatrock, Arkansaw;
Care o’ Wildcat Hiram Johnson,
In the Land of Gee and Haw.
* * *