Tara must have pulled the ground up
Over her head, you made us all
See nothing but red
Incessant bawlin', rebel drawlin'
Rhett! Rhett! Rhett!
T'was not those phony charms
That drove him from your arms
A petite, whining Southern Belle
From Hell, couldn't see the
Georgia forest in those trees
Face it now, Rhett is gone
Along with the wind, you've sung your last song
Frankly Scarlett, the boy is movin' on
Copyright © Karen Anglesey