There’s a little country church down a little country road
Near a little country town where I was born
In this little country church there’s some good old country people
And you can hear them singing every Sunday morn
And a feeling starts to swell when I hear that Sunday bell
‘Cause it takes me back to times when things were slow
And a man can’t help but pray when that organ starts to play
And it takes me back to days of long ago
To a southern fried singin’ Sunday morning
When a man would smile and shake his neighbour’s hand
On a southern fried singin’ Sunday morning
How I wish that I could be back home again
People used to gather round for a picnic on the ground
And the Reverend he would preach the Holy Word
And we’d all look to the sky
And we’d lift our voices high
And it seemed that we got closer to the Lord
On a southern fried singin’ Sunday morning
When a man would smile and shake his neighbour’s hand
On a southern fried singin’ Sunday morning
How I wish that I could be back home again
Every Sunday we would practice golden ruling
And we’d all chip in to lend a helping hand
And children always got their Sunday schooling
And they taught us how to love our fellow man
Now the days go much too fast
And you can’t live in the past
And it seems that home’s a million miles away
But when things are getting rough
And the going gets too tough
I just drift away to dreams of yesterday
To a southern fried singin’ Sunday morning
When a man would smile and shake his neighbour’s hand
On a southern fried singin’ Sunday morning
How I wish that I could be back home again
On a southern fried singin’ Sunday morning
When a man would smile and shake his neighbour’s hand
On a southern fried singin’ Sunday morning
How I wish that I could be back home again
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