Georgia Heat

{fingerpicked

acoustic guitar introduction,

slow acoustic slide guitar,

low hum, atmospheric rural sounds} Back in nineteen thirty-three,

livin’ on a dusty farm

Big ol’ family of eight,

tryin’ to keep each other warm

Didn’t have much money,

no shoes for my feet

Just sweat, dirt roads,

and that Georgia heat (hmmm-mm)

Every summer rolled in

like a fire from hell

Sun beat down hard,

you could hear it yell

I’d run to the river,

Lord, three times a day

Cold water on my skin,

wash the heat away

{rhythm builds slightly}

Oh Lordy,

that Georgia heat

Burnin’ through my soul,

blisterin’ my feet But with my brothers and sisters,

we made it through

With Papa’s hands, we knew what to do {soaring vocal harmony}

Papa was a hard man,

but he worked real true

Farmin’ in the mornin’,

cuttin’ timber by noon

Got ourselves a claim

down in Georgia pine

Just a twelve-year-old boy,

swingin’ steel in line

Trimmin’ down trees ‘til my hands would bleed

Sweat drippin’ down like a summer rain indeed

Draggin’ logs out to that old mill yard

Every breath I took felt heavy and hard (Lord help me now)

Papa’s gone now, but I still hear his voice

“Son, keep pushin’, you don’t get a choice”

Thirty-five years, still cuttin’ that wood Still feel that heat,

just like I should {swelling fiddle and heavy stomp}

Oh Lordy,

that Georgia heat

Still burnin’ down, but I won’t admit defeat

Got my Papa’s blood,

runnin’ in my veins

Through the sweat and the sun and the hard-earned pain (Lord,

carry me home) Yeah,

I miss you Papa,

every swing, every mile See you in my boys when they start

to smile

Still hot as hell

in that southern sky…

But your hands still guide me… every time I try {music decays

to a single fingerpicked guitar note}