{t:SOUTHLAND IN THE SPRINGTIME} {st:Saliers} {chords_size: 1} {chords_position: 1} {print_chords:yes} {print_major:yes} {print_minor:yes} {print_seventh:yes} {print_bemol:yes} {print_bass_not_root:yes} {font:Title,Comic Sans MS, 20, 0,true,false} {font:SubTitle,Comic Sans MS, 16, 0,true,false} {font:Lyric,Comic Sans MS, 14, 0,false,false} {font:Chord,Arial, 8, 255,false,true} {font:Comment,Comic Sans MS, 8, 16711680,false,false} {font:Tablature,Courier New, 10, 65280,false,false} {font:Header,Comic Sans MS, 10, 0,true,false} {font:Footer,Comic Sans MS, 10, 0,true,false} {font:Control,MS Sans Serif, 8, 16711680,false,false} {left_margin: 800} {right_margin: 600} {top_margin: 1000} {botton_margin: 1000} {print_orientation: 1} {comment:Capo 5} [G][C][D][G][C][D] [G]maybe we'll make [Am7]Texas by the [C]morning[D] [G]light the bayou with our [Am7]tailights in the [C]night[D] [Em]800 miles to El [C]Paso from the [G]state line and we [F]never have the [C]money for the [Am7]flight[D] I'm in the [G]back seat [Am7]sleepy from the [C]travel[D] played our [G]hearts out all nigh[Am7]t long in New Or[C]leans[D] I'm [Em]dirty from the [C]diesel fumes, [G]drinking coffee black when the [F]first breath of [C]Texas comes in [Am7]clean[D] {start_of_chorus} and there's [G]something 'bout the [Am7]southland in the [C]springtime[D] where the [G]waters flow with [B]confidence and [Em]reason[C] though I [G]miss her when I'm [Am7]gone it won't [Bm7]ever be too [C]long till I'm [Am7]home again to [Bm7]spend my favorite [C]season[D] when God [Am7]made me born a [Bm7]Yankee he was [C]teasin'[D] there's no [Am7]place like home and [Bm7]nonE more plea[C]sin' than the [D]southland in the [G]springtime {end_of_chorus} In [G]Georgia nights are [Am7]softer than a [C]whisper[D] beneath a [G]quilt somebody's [Am7]mother made by [C]hand[D] and the [Em]farmland like a [C]tapestry passed [G]down through generations and the [F]peach trees[C] stitched across the [Am7]land[D] there'll be [G]cider up near [Am7]Helen off the [C]roadside[D] and boiled [G]peanuts in a [Am7]bag to warm your [C]fingers[D] and the [Em]smoke from the [C]chimneys meets its [G]maker in the sky with a [F]song that winter [C]wrote whose melody [C]lingers[D] {start_of_chorus} and there's [G]something 'bout the [Am7]southland in the [C]springtime[D] where the [G]waters flow with [B]confidence and [eEm]reason[C] though I [G]miss her when I'm [Am7]gone it won't [Bm7]ever be too [C]long till I'm [Am7]home again to [Bm7]spend my favorite [C]season[D] when God [Am7]made me born a [Bm7]Yankee he was [C]teasin'[D] there's no [Am7]place like home and [Bm7]nonE more plea[C]sin' than the [D]southland in the [G]springtime {end_of_chorus}