No ships for me this morning 
No stroll for me today 
No bloody marys on the beach
No sunburn on the way

It's the tweeting of little songbirds
The scolding of the squirrels
The dew thick upon the fescue
The buzzards as they whirl

The mountains call me home
I see them in the distance
The air has cooled the light has changed
The mosquitoes are persistent 

My old front porch beckons
And I reflect upon this life
I'll sit right here with my beer
And bid the South goodnight