Mama never had a flower garden cause cotton grew right up to our front door
Daddy never went on a vacation he died a tired old man at forty-four
Our neighbors in the big house called us redneck
Cause we lived in a poor sharecropper shack
The Jackson's down the road were poor like we were
But our skin was white and their was black
But I believe the south is gonna rise again
But not the way we thought it would back then
I mean everybody hand in hand I believe the south is gonna rise again

I see wooded parks and big skyscarpers where [bad word] shack stood once before
I see sons and daughter and sharecroppers but they're not pickin' cotton anymore
But more important I see human kindness as we forget the bad and keep the good
brand new breeze is blowing cross the southland
And I see a brand new kind of brotherhood
Yes I believe the south is gonna...
I believe the south is gonna rise again I believe the south is gonna rise again