Sweet little Bailey from Cypress Bend, Barefoot walkin’ like the river’s her friend. Sun-kissed hair and a heart of gold, But cross her once, and the story gets cold. Dixie’s her shadow, moves like smoke, Four-legged fury in a collar she broke. Might look tame with that lazy grin, But push comes to shove? She'll tear through sin. Down in the swamp where the secrets stick, Bailey and Dixie don’t scare quick. She’ll pour you tea with a smile so wide— But you best not wrong her, or run and hide. Sippin’ sweet tea on her front porch rail, Moss hangin’ low like a wedding veil. Gators don’t snap, birds don’t sing, When Dixie growls, it means something. She don’t need no lawman’s grace, She’s got her own kind of justice place. A whisper, a nod, and it’s understood— Some things down here don’t end too good. Sundown hits like a bottle’s kiss, You can hear her hummin’ through the Spanish mist. A redneck princess in a swamp-side throne, And Dixie keeps watch with a bone of her own. Down in the mud where the cypress lean, Bailey’s the soft and Dixie’s the mean. Sweet on the surface, wild underneath— Like sugar and thunder with bayou teeth.
