|
went down in the hollow |
|
where the wild redtails fly |
|
and the oaks and the sycamores |
|
reach up to the sky |
|
the old river was |
|
clear outta sight |
|
back to a time |
|
on a cold southern night |
|
way up in the hills |
|
in the woods dark and deep |
|
the light and the shadows |
|
silently creep |
|
the owl and the whippoorwill |
|
called out through the mist |
|
and the call of the moonlight |
|
and the will of the winds |
|
if I could return |
|
to the days of my youth |
|
and the time that I spent |
|
in those Tennessee woods |
|
seems like just yesterday |
|
but it was so long ago |
|
how the time slips away |
|
so much more than we know |
|
went down in the hollow |
|
where the wild redtails fly |
|
and the oaks and the sycamores |
|
reach up to the sky |
|
the old river was |
|
clear out of sight |
|
back to a time |
|
on a cold southern night |
|
went back to a time |
|
on a cold southern night |