Dixie Wannabe Poem by LeFay Beechnut

Big Apple—rotten to the core.
Northern horizon—never felt the lore.
Big lights, big dreams, go big or go home.
Disliked, had none, y'all she's alone.

Cornfields, only in a box, wheat stalks, lonely in a bag.
Growin' in a field, swayin' in the breeze, things she'd never had.
Untainted moonlight, night skies thousand stars bright.
Those topping's, the sky's bright jewels, make dark right.
Constant sunrays like a long lost friend,
reachin' with long, warm fingers to take hold again.


North's got nothin' over her, Yankee's never wowin' her.
Roots, ties, losin' their hold—winter's pass, she's gettin' bold.
Hightailin' it for Dixieland, joyful, hopeful goodbye's,
Hair down, shoes aside, headin' for a tractor's reckless ride.
From New York hails, she'll never tell and it don't even seem.
Southern belle, feelin' well, livin' up her dream.


Miles of road, hours of air, shoulderin' a load, before even gettin' near.
Trinkets to toss, state lines to cross, mighty wishin' there was here.
Humdinger dragonflies, whiskered catfish sleek and sly,
endless acres, cattle wise, tumbleweed, deep blue skies.


Little towns, big hearts, loyal crowd, late starts,
unhurried, artful twang, country music, football games.
Wantin' to pick that up, get a truck,
brand new life, change of luck.
Adios to graffitied walls, 'stead of slouchin', standin' tall.
Had enough of blarin' horns, ready to land instead of fall.
Knowin' that change ain't bad, what life's about,
sure ready, so glad—she's headin' South.


North's got nothin' over her, Yankee's never wowin' her.
Roots, ties, losin' their hold—winter's pass, she's gettin' bold.
Hightailin' it for Dixieland, joyful, hopeful goodbye's,
Hair down, shoes aside, headin' for a tractor's reckless ride.
From New York hails, she'll never tell and it don't even seem.
Southern belle, feelin' well, livin' up her dream.