Prologue: The Old Red Hills of Home

(1862 - Marietta, Georgia, twenty miles from Atlanta. A young Confederate soldier stands alone in a field under a large oak tree.)

Farewell, my Lila
I'll write every evening
I've carved our names
In the trunk of this tree
Farewell, my Lila
I miss you already
And dream of the day
When I'll hold you again
In a home safe from fear
When the Southland is free.

I go to fight for these old hills behind me
These old red hills of home
I go to fight for these old hills remind me
Of a way of life that's pure
Of the truth that must endure
In a town called Marietta
In the old red hills of home.

Pray on this day as I journey beyond them
These old red hills of home
Let all the blood of the North spill upon them
'Til they've paid for what they've wrought
Taken back the lies they've taught
And there's peace in Marietta
And we're safe again in Georgia
In the land where honor lives and breathes
The old red hills of home!

Farewell, my Lila. Farewell:

(Peachtree Street in Atlanta, Georgia
April 26, 1913 - the Confederate Memorial Day Parade. The soldier is now a half-century older, in Confederate uniform; in place of his right leg, a wooden peg.)

Look there, my Lila
They call me to tell it
The lives that we led
When the Southland was free
We gave our lives for the old hills of Georgia
The old red hills of home
Not much survives of the old hills of Georgia
But I close my eyes and hear
All the treasures we held dear:

The rushing of the Chattahoochee
The rustlin' of the wind
And Mama in the kitchen singin'
And me and Lila swingin' in a tree
Oh, I hear it calling, calling
And I would gladly give
My good right leg again!
Again!

The tall pines and the red clay
|The blue skies and the dog wood trees
A man can grow his cotton and his crops
Oh, I hear it calling, calling
Still!
Again!

God bless the sight of the old hills of Georgia
The old red hills of home
Praise those who'd fight
For the old hills of Georgia
For those proud and valiant men
We'll sing "Dixie" once again
For the men of Marietta
For the brothers of Cobb County
For the fathers of Atlanta
For the patriarchs
Who gave everything for Georgia
And the old red hills of home!