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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