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