Sunday Morning

I wake up to see the sun shine, All I see is beauty divine, Mothers are cooking sausage and bacon, And I know cause I am from Macon, Macon, Georgia; where I see Beautiful sundays and a nice tree, The wind is in my face when I step outside, Children on the playground as they laugh and slide, Many folks getting ready for church, and they will sing like the birch, That sits upon the tree and sways, And that will be all the days, Food, family, and good times, Is what really chimes, The day is Holy, Thank the Lord, Cause I like relaxing some more, On that beautiful Sunday Morning.