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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 in a Maxwell house coffee can |
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I'm gonna sit under ashade tree on a riverbank where it's cool |
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I'm gonna close my eyes and dream and let the cork Bob away my blues |
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Well I wake up every mornin' I pick peaches all day |
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And on Saturday night we'll have a dance or two 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 said boy I've worked this dirt all my life but things ain't been good for awhile |
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Why don't you move to the city make a little money you might be the first one in |
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The family 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 can't have the country blues |
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Whoever said a city boy can't have the country blues |
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Whoever said a city boy can't have the country blues |
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Well honey they ain't talked to me and you |
