Eb Bb F C A/Db
There’s a porch swing in Tupelo, in the shape of the south,
Bb F/A Eb Bb
Where the sweet honey drips out by that old hush your mouth.
F Em Dm C Bb F
It’s a slow road on down that old Natchez Trace,
A A/Db Dm Eb F C A/Db
Through Alabama cotton fields to a state of grace.
It’s a crisp, golden autumn on the Tennessee line,
Rollin’ down the Mississippi like you’re headed back in time.
F Em Dm C Bb Bb/Eb F
Town’s closed on Sunday. Everybody’s in church.
A A/C# Dm Eb F Bb/F F
It’s empty as the moon, this place here on earth.
And, this place don’t change. Some places move slow.
G Am Bb Bb/B C Bb/C C
I’m just rockin’ myself on this porch swing in Tupelo.
Db Dm C Bb
I got nothin’ to do ‘cept hang in the breeze.
F Em Dm
Ghosts of the old south are all around me.
Yeah, swing high. Yeah, swing low.
Bb/G Bb/Eb F
Here on this porch swing in Tupelo.
His mama must have loved him, that truck drivin’ boy.
Bb F/A Eb Bb Eb Bb
With the grease monkey look, and a rock and roll voice.
Well, I was just thinkin’ about him ‘cause I guess he sat here.
A A/Db Dm Eb F
Singin’, “ah, praise to god,” through poverty’s tears,
Dm C Bb F A A/Db Dm Eb F
Bb/G Bb F
Here, on this porch swing in Tupelo.