Well I Grew Up Wild And Free Walking These Fields In My Bare Feet

There Wadn't No Place I Couldn't Go With A Twenty-two Rifle And A Fishing Pole

Well I Live In The City But Don't Fit In You Know It's A Pity The Shape I'm In

But I Got No Home And I Got No Choice Oh Lord Have Mercy On A Country Boy



When I Was Young I Remember Well I'd Hunt The Wild Turkey And The Bob-white Quail

The River Was Clear And Deep Back Then And Fishin' Lines Tied To The Willow Limb

Well I Live In The City...



Well They Dammed The River They Dammed The Stream

They Cut Down The Cypress And The Sweet Gum Trees

There's A Laundra Mat And A Barber Shop And Now The Whole Meadow Is A Parking Lot

Well I Live In The City...