Wild Rose of the Mountain
If I had my life to live, I'd sure live it over.
Only walk in brand new shoes and just lay down in clover.
Only work on Christmas Day. All the rest go sportin'.
Spend my days down at the creek, and ev'ry night go courtin'.
Cho: Honey from the honey comb, water from the fountain.
Sugar from the sugar cane and my wild rose of the mountain.
When I think of home sweet home, it makes my eyes grow misty.
Poppa singing gospel songs and Momma sippin' whiskey.
Whiskey from a white oak barrel sure does make good liquor.
Makes the nights seem twice as bright and the days go by much quicker.
If I had a pickup truck, I'd fill it up with water.
Paint a catfish on the side and make believe I'd caught her.
Drive it slowly down the road, try to keep from bumpin'.
Park it down beside the creek and watch those fish come jumpin'.
If I had a new-made quilt, I'd fill it up with feathers.
Take my Rosie by the hand and lay down there together.
Oh, the days that I was young! Thoughts that keep returning
Drive the winter night away just like a log fire burning.
From Si Kahn's "Doing My Job."