Lord Have Mercy On A Country Boy

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 22 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, they dammed the river, they dammed the stream

They cut down the cypress and the sweet gum trees

There?s a laundry mat and a barber shop

And now the whole meadow is a parkin? lot