Well i grew up wild and free walking these fields in my bare feet
there wadn'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...