Georgia Peach

W. Spagnardi © 2007

Down in Macon County where the trees grow so high I was working Miller’s orchard when a vision caught my eye I pined to touch her creamy skin that was so blushed and fair And run my vagrant fingers through that bristly, golden hair She’s a peach, she’s peach Watched her bloom so soft and sweet Got her roots tucked deep down in that Georgia clay She’s a peach, what a peach, Lovely fragrance makes me weep Gonna wrap my lips around her someday Mama swears you can bruise a peach by squeezin’ her too tight So I gently raised my hands out to that beauty, firm and ripe Old man Miller caught that hungry look upon my migrant face Said, “I’m payin’ you to pick, son, I ain’t payin’ you to taste” Chorus Kept my eye upon that sweet thing as the trees were growing bare Now, it’s gettin’ time to leave ‘cause there’s a chill up in the air I know just what I got to do, as winter’s drawing near Gonna pluck that Georgia Peach and take her far away from here Chorus 2x

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