Down on Church Street there's an old man
with a sweet strum and a brown bag
he's still trying to write that song.
And the ponytail girls dream
in a warm wind from the gulf stream,
and the Cumberland just rolls along.
Oh Tennessee, I miss your sweet life,
I've been away so long.
Oh Tennessee, leave on the moonlight
I'm taking the back road home.
I saw this cat chill, out in Knoxville,
cooking catfish on a black grill -
he was humming some Beale Street blues.
Every big game there's a tailgate,
and the churches line the Interstate,
and on Sunday they got real good news.
Chorus
By a Smoky Mountain cool spring
there's a tree rope where the kids swing -
to the sound of a distant train.
Old Wanda swears it ain't the wine
but she saw the ghost of Patsy Cline -
laughing in the Broadway rain.
Chorus
Allen Karl - Oh Tennessee Lyrics
Allen Karl - Oh Tennessee Lyrics
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
Down on Church Street there's an old man
with a sweet strum and a brown bag
he's still trying to write that song.
And the ponytail girls dream
in a warm wind from the gulf stream,
and the Cumberland just rolls along.
Oh Tennessee, I miss your sweet life,
I've been away so long.
Oh Tennessee, leave on the moonlight
I'm taking the back road home.
I saw this cat chill, out in Knoxville,
cooking catfish on a black grill -
he was humming some Beale Street blues.
Every big game there's a tailgate,
and the churches line the Interstate,
and on Sunday they got real good news.
Chorus
By a Smoky Mountain cool spring
there's a tree rope where the kids swing -
to the sound of a distant train.
Old Wanda swears it ain't the wine
but she saw the ghost of Patsy Cline -
laughing in the Broadway rain.
Chorus
with a sweet strum and a brown bag
he's still trying to write that song.
And the ponytail girls dream
in a warm wind from the gulf stream,
and the Cumberland just rolls along.
Oh Tennessee, I miss your sweet life,
I've been away so long.
Oh Tennessee, leave on the moonlight
I'm taking the back road home.
I saw this cat chill, out in Knoxville,
cooking catfish on a black grill -
he was humming some Beale Street blues.
Every big game there's a tailgate,
and the churches line the Interstate,
and on Sunday they got real good news.
Chorus
By a Smoky Mountain cool spring
there's a tree rope where the kids swing -
to the sound of a distant train.
Old Wanda swears it ain't the wine
but she saw the ghost of Patsy Cline -
laughing in the Broadway rain.
Chorus