(Bob McDill)

Well, I grew up wild and free
Walkin' these fields in my bare feet
There wasn't no place I couldn't go
With a twenty-two rifle and a fishing pole.

Chorus:
Well, I live in the city but don't fit in
You know its a pity the shape I'm in
Well, I got no home and I got no choice
Oh Lord, have mercy on a country boy.

--- Instrumental ---

When I was young I remember well
I'd 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.

Chorus:
Well, I live in the city but don't fit in
You know its a pity the shape I'm in
Well, I got no home and I got no choice
Oh Lord, have mercy on a country boy.

--- Instrumental ---

Well, they dammed the river, they dammed the stream
They cut down the cypress and the sweet gum trees
There's a laundra' mat and a barber shop
And now the whole meadow is a parkin' lot.

Chorus:
Well, I live in the city but don't fit in
You know its a pity the shape I'm in
Well, I got no home and I got no choice
Oh Lord, have mercy on a country boy...