I am Je-re-mi-ah Di-xon, I am a Geor - die boy.
Glass of wine with you sir and the la- dies I'll enj oy
all Dur-ham and North-um - ber-land
is mea- sured up by my own hand
It was my fate from birth
to make my mark up-on the earth
He calls me Char- lie Ma- son, a star- gaz-er am I
It seems that I was born to chart the eve-ning sky
They'd cut me out for ba-king bread
But I had o-ther dreams in- stead
This ba-ker's boy from the west coun-try
Would join the Roy-al So-ci-e-ty
We are sail-ing to Phil-a- del- phi- a
A world a-way from the coa-ly Tyne
Sail- ing to Phil-a- del- phi- a
To draw the line
The Ma-son Dix-on Line
Now you're a good sur-vey- or Dix- on,
but I swear you'll make me mad
The West will kill us both,
you gul-li-ble Geor-die lad
You talk of li-ber-ty
How can A-mer- i-ca be free
A Geor-die and a ba- ker's boy
In the for-ests of the I-ro-quois
Now hold your head up, Ma-son
See Am-e- ri-ca lies there
The mor- ning tide has raised the capes of De-la-ware
Come up and fee the sun
A new mor-ning is be-gun
A-no-ther day will make it clear
Why your star should guide us here
We are sail-ing to Phil-a- del- phi- a
A world a-way from the coa-ly Tyne
Sail- ing to Phil-a- del- phi- a
To draw the line
The Ma- son Dix-on Line
The Ma- son Dix-on Line
