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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Scotty McCreery
Lead Vocals
Alison Krauss
Background Vocals
Anthony Lamarchina
Cello
Aubrey Haynie
Fiddle
Bryan Sutton
Mandolin
David Angell
Violin
David Davidson
Violin
Derek Wells
Electric Guitar
Eric Darken
Percussion
Frank Rogers
Programming
Gordon Mote
Piano
Greg Morrow
Drums
Ilya Toshinskiy
Acoustic Guitar
J.T. Corenflos
Electric Guitar
Jedd Hughes
Electric Guitar
Jelly Roll Johnson
Harmonica
Jim "Moose" Brown
Piano
Jon Randall
Background Vocals
Kristin Wilkinson
Viola
Matthew West
Background Vocals
Mike Johnson
Pedal Steel Guitar
Rachel Loy
Bass
Russell Terrell
Background Vocals
Shannon Forest
Drums
Wei Tsun Chang
Violin
Wes Hightower
Background Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Jon Randall Stewart
Songwriter
Ronnie Stewart
Songwriter
Kristin Wilkinson
Arranger
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Frank Rogers
Producer
Beau Maxwell
Assistant Recording Engineer
Brady Barnett
Editing Engineer
Brian David Willis
Editing Engineer
Drew Bollman
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Williams Hank
Mastering Engineer
Justin Neibank
Mixing Engineer
Matt Rausch
Editing Engineer
Nathan Zwald
Additional Engineer
Neal Cappellino
Additional Engineer
Rich Ramsey
Assistant Recording Engineer
Richard Barrow
Recording Engineer
Scotty Alexander
Editing Engineer
Lyrics
I woke up this morning to the hummin' of the engines
Haulin' nature's finest from the Gulf of Mexico
Riding this ol' river is peaceful but it's lonesome
And it makes me wonder how the old folks are at home
Now the years have blown by me like the wind through the pines
But the song of the south is ever sweet as homemade wine
Oh, how I miss those mountains when the laurels are in bloom
And the southern stars are dancin' 'round a North Carolina moon
Just rolled through Memphis, I could hear them guitars playin'
They had the blues so bad it almost broke my heart
But it don't sound nothing like a band of tree frogs singin'
When every now and then, they'd get in tune with grandpa's harp
Now the years have blown by me like the wind through the pines
But the song of the south is ever sweet as homemade wine
Oh, how I miss those mountains when the laurels are in bloom
And the southern stars are dancin' 'round a North Carolina moon
Now when I die boys, make me this promise
You'll send my body back up North Carolina way
I don't want no tombstone, just lay me next to mama
And let the honeysuckle grow wild upon my grave
Now the years have blown by me like the wind through the pines
But the song of the south is ever sweet as homemade wine
Oh, how I miss those mountains when the laurels are in bloom
And the southern stars are dancin' 'round a North Carolina moon
Yeah, the southern stars are dancin' 'round a North Carolina moon
North Carolina moon
Oh, how I miss those mountains when the laurels are in bloom
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh
Writer(s): Jon Randall, Ronnie Stewart
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