Living in the country
gives a boy a lot of heart,
I've got so many things to do,
I don't know where to start.Hickory trees to fly in
or the old grape vines to ride,
Just where to put priorities,
a feller can't decide.
Might even build a ground slide
from an old tomato lug,
Or go out in the side shed
and call a doodle bug.
Might even go a'swimming,
if the fellers come along.
Old wood pecker keeps a' knocking
while blue jay sings his song.
May catch some humped-back camel worms
with play-like fishing pole,
Just drop a great long broom straw
down in the old worm's hole.
When the broom straw starts to wiggle,
you jerk with all your might,
Then put 'em in a fruit jar lid
and watch the old worms fight.
May climb up in Pa's barn loft,
there's goobers there for pickin's
Or find a settin' hens nest,
full of fresh hatched baby chickens.
I'll put a plan across that stump
and ride it up and down.
Sure feel sorry for those kids
that have to live in town.
You can take some old dried cornstalk
and make a water mill.
And be sung to sleep each evening
by the notes of whippoor-will.
Might dig some worms and fish awhile
with my old sassafrass pole.
I know where there's a real good perch
and yeller catfish hole.
Watch the hayfields ripple
as the warm winds softly blow,
Walk barefoot through the clover
and get bee stung on your toe.
Some days you watch a storm cloud rise
and hear a thunder bolt,
Or ride a calf, or scratch a pig,
or pet a brand new colt.
You can hear the rooster crowing,
at the rising of the sun.
And hear the owls a' hooting
when the summer day is done.
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You can hear the hound dogs howlin'
at the beauty of the moon.
Or listen to the mocking-bird
bring forth a lovely tune.Hear old bullfrog sing his
chorus
on a night so bright and clear,
Go sneaking out at twilight
and glimpse a white-tail deer.
You can chase a mama kill-dee
when she's acting at her best,
She'll make you think she's crippled
just to lure you from her nest.
In the winter when the snow is on,
go hunt old cotton tail,
In the summer, watch Mrs. Bob-white
protect her baby quail.
Take the steel band from a wagon hub
and pretend it is your car.
Go outside, when the moon is dark,
and count most every star.
Lie on a bed of sponge-moss
and dream of magig rugs.
Or pull a penny match-box wagon
with a team of betsy bugs.
Have a turtle and a lizard
and a toad frog named old Sam
And eat Ma's home-made light bread,
spread with fresh strawberry jam.
Go out and tease a setting goose
and she'll rise and hiss at you.
Then bite you on your backside
until you're black and blue.
If you're not mighty fleet of foot,
she'll call her gander too,
And they'll both have Sunday dinner
on what is left of you.
Hear the screaming of the big brown hawk
as he begins his day,
He'll hover, then fall to earth,
while hunting for his prey.
Smell the sweetness of God's great earth
behind an April rain.
Hear the lonesome mournful whistle
of a far-off midnight train.
There ain't no way a country boy
can find time to be bored.
"Cause there's a thousand new things,
each day, to be explored.
God granted me a privilege,
my life has been pure joy!
I was born among a simple breed,
that folks call "Country Boy".
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