I was just a little bum back in '61
staring out that ol' Ford window young and open-eyed
didn't matter where we were going
just as long as I saw green
I remember well being thankful for Sunday rides...
'cause I was City born and city raised
to this day I'm still amazed
that nothing could ever make me citified
in my hopes, in my dreams
I kept going home, it seems
going home to my country side. Life got way too crowded, at least it did for me
looking for a place to run to where I could hide
didn't matter where I'd be going,
there was no place in between
to afford my own Ford so I could take that ride...
might've been City born and city raised
maybe not so well behaved
'cause nobody could ever make me citified
when in my hopes, in my dreams
I kept going home, it seems
going home to my country side. When you're home up in the mountains
there's no place like home
to lay in the shade and smell that fresh mown hay
steal moonlight in the forest, run the fields on starry nights
wake up to a down-home holiday Took me more than a little while to go that country mile
staring out that old office window worn and bleary eyed
didn't matter when I'd be going
just as long as I could dream
dream of packing it in - and up -
and taking a permanent ride...
'cause when you're City born and city raised
you don't look back, it's just a haze
where nothing could ever make you citified
when in your hopes, and in your dreams
you keep going home, it seems
going home to your country side. I get down and thank God
for my country side.