The shutters are cracked and dry now
And the roof lets the rain seep in
The old four walls are ready to fall
And the sign reads
"This House Condemned"

Once a mighty plantation
When a nation was at war
When mothers prayed for sons that went away
And cried for ones that came back no more

But oh, if this house could talk, Lord
Of Dixieland's final days
Before they tear her down
Before she hits the ground
I'll bet this is what she would say

Early on one frosty morn
They raised my timbers and I was born
Lord, I remember the day
The mighty oak became my soul
The Delta dawn kept me from the cold
Lord, Lord
Look away

I've seen history, Robert E. Lee
And Johnny Reb hold his head up high;
They can tear me down, down, down
But Dixieland, you will never die
The garden gate is rusty
And the well's dusty and dry
The magnolia trees are swayin' in the breeze
As if to hang their heads and cry

The ballroom is quiet and empty
Where the bands once used to play
And the battlefields are resting and still
With the ghosts of the blue and the gray

This house has seen it all, Lord
As time kept marching on
But I'll bet these walls can recall
A story all their own

I've seen King Cotton touch the sky
And riverboats floating by
On their way to New Orleans

I've bowed with people standing tall
With their backs pushed up
Against the wall
Getting by on hopes and dreams

I've seen southern belles
And with their heads held high
They can tear me down, down, down
But Dixieland, you will never die
Dixieland, you will never die