Thursday, October 4, 2012

I HEAR THE WHISPER OF THE MOUNTAINS CALLING ...



                                      "I hear the whisper ... the mountains calling me...."

                                                                     
                                 Poem we sing every year on the way to Georgia!
               
      WHEN… I WANT TO BE IN GEORGIA?            ( Poem we sing to the tune of,
          by Marggie Rassler (2009)
                                                                                         Deep In The Heart Of Texas) 
            

                                                                     
When nature gloats,                                                   Every year close around this time the
                                                                                   family caravans ... off to Georgia.
In autumn’s coats,                                                      As we go, my grandchildren and their 
                                                                                   Nana, love to turn a little crazy
                                                                                    singing this.
And scarecrows wink,
As birds’ plans sink!
                                                                                                                       
 
                                                    Ooooooo!
                                                    I WANT TO BE IN GEORGIA!
 
                                                   When sorghum cooks,
                                                   Around the bend,
                                                   And apple-fritters,
                                                   Temptaions send!
 
                                                   Ooooooo!
                          
                                                   I WANT TO BE IN GEORGIA!
                                       
                                                   When the air is crisp,
                                                    And the winds us frisk,
                                                    When leaves come down,
                                                    And pumpkins frown!
 
                                                    Ooooooo! 
                                                   
                                                    I WANT TO BE IN GEORGIA!
 
                                                    When the fair is there,
                                                     With the vendor's wares,
                                                     And the big crowds stay,
                                                     To hear fiddlers play,
 
                                                     Ooooooo!
                                                      I WANT TO BE IN GEORGIA!
 
                                                     When the corn is picked
                                                      And the hay is rolled, 
                                                      When we hold our breath,
                                                       Beauty to behold!
 
                                                      Ooooooo!
                                                      I WANT TO BE IN GEORGIA!
                                                                         
                                                                           

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