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.