The Azalea City
My memories wander and my heart goes back to another place,
Where the people are warm and genuine, and have that Southern grace.
It’s known as the Azalea City, with the magnificent March flowers,
Where they savor the flower, instead of rushing to happy hour.
Championship football games in the chilly fall air,
Performing with the band with such skill and flair!
Tender sweet memories of a first embrace,
And you have no trouble still seeing that face.
Working so hard with the band for competitions,
Made us as musicians flourish with ambition!
And coming home as winners we were truly blessed,
We knew that God had simply made us our best!
Churches on every corner, and everyone attends,
To hear a sermon of inspiration for all the friends.
Can’t forget the sweet ripe peaches, and hot sultry nights,
Thinking of Valdosta, Georgia makes everything seem alright.
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