The song is Green Rolling Hills (of West Virginia). I spent a benighted summer in New England once. To the south New York bathed in heat was cosmopolitan and seemed positively Mediterranean, and I longed to go.
In August I did go, feeling my bones relax and expand as I crossed the state line. On the George Washington Bridge local radio came on, a program called “Tennessee Border,” and I thought, that is a good idea.
I flipped my right turn signal as soon as I could and merged onto another freeway, and was well along the Blue Ridge Parkway by nightfall.