Текст песни
Well I grew up, wild and free
Walkin' these fields in my bare feet
There wasn'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
Well 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 but don't fit in
You know it's a pity the shape I'm in
Well I got no home and I got no choice
Oh Lord, have mercy on a country boy
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 parkin' lot
Well I live in the city but don't fit in
You know it's a pity the shape I'm in
Well I got no home and I got no choice
Oh Lord have mercy on a country boy...