Sweet Tea

by Luke Pilgrim


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Gimme some sweet tea, a little Tennessee whiskey.
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A southern girl with an accent thick as that Georgia clay.
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Gimme somethin' home grown, a front porch sing along,
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Folks in winnebagos come to see the Chattahoochee flow,
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I heard them tourist callin' this place heaven,
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Hell I just call it home.

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I grew up off the beaten path,
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where the summer days are long but they seem to go by so fast.
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Washed in the blood, where the grass is always greener,
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Southern dirt stained on my jeans and that mountain air is cleaner.
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I can hear the wind blow through a magnolia tree,
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I know it may not sound like much but we got all we need.

So getcha some...
Sweet tea, a little Tennessee whiskey.
A southern girl with an accent thick as that Georgia clay.
Gimme somethin' home grown, a front porch sing along,
Folks in Winnebagos come to see the Chattahoochee flow,
I heard them tourist callin' this place heaven,
Hell I just call it home.

Got a homemade quilt at the foot of my bed,
There's a gentle tenderness and love sewn in every thread.
Grits and Okra and Vidalia onions,
Moonshine if you're old enough and lemonade for the youngins.
It ain't just country cookin' and pretty scenery,
It's a friendly wave, a helping hand, It's love and family.

Sweet tea, a little Tennessee whiskey.
A southern girl with an accent thick as that Georgia clay.
Gimme somethin' home grown, a front porch sing along,
Folks in Winnebagos come to see the Chattahoochee flow,
I heard them tourist callin' this place heaven,
Hell I just call it home.

Gimme some Sweet tea, a little Tennessee whiskey.
A southern girl with an accent thick as that Georgia clay.
Gimme somethin' home grown, a front porch sing along,
Folks in Winnebagos come to see the Chattahoochee flow,
Call it paradise or heaven if you want,
But I just call it home.
Yeah I just call it home.