Well, what i like to do on formal occasions like this is to take some of the various types of songs that we all know and presumably love, and, as it were, to kick them when theyand're down. i find that if you take the various popular song forms to their logical extremes, you can arrive at almost anything from the ridiculous to the obscene, or - as they say in new york - andquot;sophisticatedandquot;. iand'd like to illustrate with several hundred examples for you this evening, first of all, the southern type song about the wonders of the american south. but itand's always seemed to me that most of these songs really donand't go far enough. the following song, on the other hand, goes too far. itand's called i wanna go back to dixie.
I wanna go back to dixie,
take me back to dear oland' dixie,
thatand's the only liand'l oland' place for liand'l oland' me.
old times there are not forgotten,
whuppinand' slaves and sellinand' cotton,
and waitinand' for the robert e. lee.
(it was never there on time.)
Iand'll go back to the swanee,
where pellagra makes you scrawny,
and the honeysuckle clutters up the vine.1
i really am a-fixinand'
to go home and start a-mixinand'
down below that mason-dixon line.
Oh, poll tax2,
how i love ya, how i love ya,
my dear oland' poll tax.
Wonand'tcha come with me to alabammy,
back to the arms of my dear oland' mammy,
her cookinand's lousy and her hands are clammy,
but what the hell, itand's home.
Yes, for paradise the southland is my nominee.
jesand' give me a ham hock and a grit of hominy.
I wanna go back to dixie,
i wanna be a dixie pixie
and eat corn pone3 till itand's cominand' outta my ears.4
i wanna talk with southern gentlemen
and put that white sheet on again,5
i ainand't seen one good lynchinand' in years.
The land of the boll weevil,
where the laws are medieval,
is callinand' me to come and nevermore roam.
i wanna go back to the southland,
that andquot;yand'allandquot; and andquot;shet-ma-mouthandquot; land,
be it ever so decadent,
thereand's no place like home.
