| Them Texas fields were hot
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| And that tractor never was my kinda livin'
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| And when I hit sixteen, I had the size
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| And I hit the road to freedom
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| And I’m glad I wasn’t there to see my mama
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| 'Cause she must have cried for hours
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| I still hear her sayin', Gary
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| Get your guitar and pick the wildwood flower
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| Now Dallas it was big, and hard to find a job
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| And so I didn’t
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| It was easier to hitch a ride to Houston
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| And it was more like livin'
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| Now, I’ve been down every road
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| And I’ve stood on every porch where they were givin'
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| And if they had an hour, or a dime
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| I would pick the wildwood flower
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| It’s hard to turn around and look back
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| Down the roads that I have travelled
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| 'Cause like a never ending ball of twine
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| My dreams have come unravelled
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| And now as evening lays it’s shawl
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| Across the shoulders of my life I have found
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| I couldn’t tie my life together
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| With guitar strings and a poet’s heart felt line
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| And I’m so glad I wasn’t there to see my mama
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| 'Cause she must have cried for hours
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| I still hear her sayin', Gary
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| Get your guitar and pick the wildwood flower |