I seen the bright lights of Memphis
And the Commodore Hotel
And underneath a street lamp
I met a southern belle
She took me to the river
It was there she cast her spell
And in that Southern moonlight
She sang her song so well
If you'll be my Dixie Chicken
I'll be your Tennessee lamb
And we can walk together
Down in Dixie-Land
Down in Dixie-Land
Well, we made all the hot-spots
My money flowed like wine
Then that low-down Southern whiskey
Began to fog my mind
And I don't remember chuch-bells
Or the house on the edge of twon
With the white picket fence and boardwalk
Or the money I put down
But boy, do I remember
The strain of her refrain
And the nights we spent together
And the promise that we made
It's been a year she ran away
I guess that guitar player sure could play
He was always handy with a song
I guess she liked to sing along
Cause leter on in the lobby
Of the Commodore Hotel
I chanced to meet a bartender
Who said he knew her well
And as he handed me a drink
He began to hum a song
And all the boys down at the bar
Began to sing along
Writer(s): Lowell T George, Martin Fyodor Kibbee
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