no tears for Nashville,
no sense in adding to the flood,
though the roads that ran like rivers
had us wading in the mud,
and even when the Opry House
took the floodgates in,
or even when the Titan gods
were crying ‘sink or swim,’
we knew that ‘we are Nashville,’
the Athens of this land,
no call to arms was needed,
’cause it’s here, we understand
that there’s simply something different
in the way this city sings,
where, when the waters rise so high,
we strum our banjo strings,
and tell the story of the South,
its land of volunteers,
its people and the love they share
bring music to our ears.
