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Well, I'm goin' down to the river |
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I've got a canepole in my hand |
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I've got my redworms |
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In a Maxwell house coffee can. |
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I'm gonna sit under a shade tree |
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On a riverbank where its cool |
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I'm gonna close my eyes and dream |
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And let that cork bob away my blues. |
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Well, I wake up every mornin' |
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I pick peaches all day |
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And on Saturday night we'll have a dance or two |
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We might waller in the hay. |
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Now the only thing that ever whipped my pa |
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Was this bad dude called old age |
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And his last years was his best years |
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And this is what he had to say. |
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He siad, boy I've worked this dirt all my life |
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But things ain't been good for awhile |
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Why don't you move to the city, make a little money |
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You might be the first one in the family |
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Ever to die with a smile. |
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Well, I took his advice, things goin' well |
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But my friends are far and few |
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But whoever said a city boy |
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Can't have the the country blues? |
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Whoever said a city boy |
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Can't have the the country blues? |
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Whoever said a city boy |
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Can't have the the country blues? |
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Well, honey they ain't talked to me and you... |
