Down a two lane road
In Southern Alabama
Thousands of seeds are sowed
Before long the vines break the ground
And the sun and rain goes to work
Soon tiny green fruit is all around
The little green fruit swells in the heat
And the vines droop with the weight
Of the finest summertime treat
When the growing stops the fruit turns deep red
And an army of workers will start picking
And across the state folks ready their bread
They drive from everywhere, from miles around.
The boxed tomatoes are lined up for sale
And the tiny town of Slocomb is where they are found
Cars leave loaded with boxes to take back home
Slather the bread in mayo and slice the tomato thin
With pile of potato chips on a plate of styrofoam
Summer doesn’t start without the southern treat
Of the first mater sandwich of the year
A southern delight that’s hard to beat