Livin’ in the Country…

Rollin’ up the road in a well-used pick-up truck…
Passin’ fields of cows and chickens, chicken pickin”cluck’…
Buford mountain in the background, a-risin’ through the fog…
Headin’ up to Russell’s Café for a burger or a dog…

Highway Twenty-One is uh-movin’ through the hills…
Past the ancient oaken barns, old cabins and some stills…
Creek’s a winding all along the curvy mountain road…
Bridges crossing creeks and rivers, ain’t no money owed…

Old time barns and cabins is the thing I like the best…
Unless you add some banjos, fiddles, guitars and the rest…
Mandolin uh-pickin’ out old tunes that grandpa knew…
Jaw harp a jawin’ now through tunes both old and new…

Old hound dog uh-settin’ there takin’ it all in…
Mindful of the magic of the mountain music din…
Hillbillies come around in time and sing and dance and drink…
Tilt the moonshine jug up high and turn off what you think…

Shot gun’s a hangin’ up upon the cabin wall, not new…
Grandma brought some rabbits in fer makin’ rabbit mountain stew…
The prison in town is made of stone, some walls are 3 feet thick…
Mess around, they’ll throw you in, it gives the law a kick…

Enjoy the mountain music and the scenery all about…
The creeks and rivers, bridges crossing over, in and out…
Ma says I weren’t raised in no barn, but I entertain the thought…
It was through the blood of Jesus that my soul was saved and bought…

Tom Arri, 5/6/2019