West through the piney woods, y'all
From Alabama into Mississippi
There's a leafy trail cleared out by my brothers, heads down
Said they're all going to miss me

You've got to walk
You've got to walk

From the feet of the Appalachians
Down into the deepest swamps
You used to could do what you had to do
Now you got to do what they want

You've got to walk
You've got to walk

We can take a breath, puff out our chests, act like a proud
Noble band --
In that little bit of sun before the skies turn cold

We can sing songs about the Southland, whoop and holler
While we can
Whistle Dixie while that long, white hand takes hold
In a Choctaw summer, where's a red-blooded boy to go?

Jackson's name on a piece of white paper
Drove our fathers to the Plains
Now the paper's green. It's got his face, red and mean
Going to drive us to our graves
You've got to walk
You've got to walk

We can take a breath, puff out our chests, act like a proud, noble band --
In that little bit of sun before the skies turn cold
We can sing songs about the Southland, whoop and holler
While we can
Whistle Dixie while that long, white hand takes hold
In a Choctaw summer, where's a red-blooded boy to go?