Oh Massachusetts
Oak trees in autumn, frozen pond hockey,
Cannons on commons… history lives.
A 250-year old tavern is calling.
I’m headed right over there after my shift.
Sing me your folk songs,
Fill me with stories
About cities, back roads, rivers and farms.
Pray for the pilgrim who came here before me.
Oh Massachusetts, here in my heart.
I met her one August. She’d just finished college.
She told me she’d seen half the world on her own.
We held hands together from Wellfleet to Stockbridge.
By New Year’s in Rockport she knew she was home.
Sing me your folk songs,
Fill me with stories
About cities, back roads, rivers and farms.
Pray for the pilgrim who came here before me.
Oh Massachusetts, here in my heart.
I won’t mess with Texas. Virginia’s for lovers.
But that doesn’t matter to me, or my wife.
The South is romantic. And I sure love to visit.
But I know where I’m hanging my hat all my life.
Sing me your folk songs,
Fill me with stories
About cities, back roads, rivers and farms.
Pray for the pilgrim who came here before me.
Oh Massachusetts, here in my heart