Thursday, May 20, 2010


Many states and countries can tout of beauty fair,
with their large cities where people hurry past,
or snowcapped mountains rising far on high.

Most people who visit are unaware,
and many consider us last,
they can not see the greatness in front of their eyes.

From the Gulf of Mexico to the fertile delta land,
To tall homes of Natchez and the somber battlefields of Vicksburg,
the swamps and rivers sing as the hills in the north bloom.

Our people greet you with an open hand,
warm friendship under the song of the mockingbird,
sharing sweet tea near the fresh picked magnolia in our living room.

I look around under the warm sun,
At the beauty that can be found.
I know that no justice can be done,
For this sacred fertile ground.

The one named for a river wide and strong,
Mississippi where I belong.

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