Lord Have Mercy on a Country Boy

Well, I grew up wild and free
Walkin these fields in my bare feet
There wasnt no place I couldnt go
With a 22 rifle and a fishing pole

Well, I live in the city but dont fit in
You know it's a pity, the shape Im 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
Id 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
Theres a laundry mat and a barber shop
And now the whole meadow is a parkin lot