Lord Have Mercy On A Country Boy

Lord Have Mercy On A Country Boy
Well I grew up wild and free walking 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
But 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...
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 parking lot
Well I live in the city...