In this land of musician and poet,
Through our Country, our Blues, and our swing,
Shakespeare’s our song,
And the more he plays on,
The more you just want to join in.

Oh, sing with me, y’all, and be thankful
That our Shakespeare’s come home to Nashville;
We will light up his name,
In our great hall of fame,
Like him we’ll treat all folk the same.

I am head over heels in this Arden,
O, come to Centenial Park;
My love in this dream,
Is like home-made ice-cream,
Or the wine that we drink in the dark.

Oh, feast with me y’all, and be thankful
That our Shakespeare’s come home to Nashville;
Our hands and our feet
Will frisk in the heat,
As the stars throb to Amiens’ beat.

I can see my belovèd Orlando,
Hear the songs that he writes to the moon,
Does he know that his eyes,
Glance into my sighs,
Oh, I hope he keeps playing his tune.

Oh, let’s make a quilt and be thankful
That our Shakespeare’s come home to Nashville;
If we all stitch our part,
Then the Bluegrass can start
To play on the strings of our heart.

We will never be absent in spirit;
If Shakespeare’s there, we’ll be found;
Whether happy or sad,
Through good times and bad,
Formed from the clay of this ground.

Oh, all of my days I’ll be thankful,
That our Shakespeare’s come home to Nashville;
Blow a kiss to the band,
And give me your hand,
As we dance on this honky-tonk sand.

by Paul Edmondson