| I was born down in the country
|
| Down where the cotton grows
|
| Turnin' off the main highway
|
| Goin' down that country road
|
| There’s a place down in the country
|
| Where the pine trees grow so tall
|
| Walk across that old log bridge
|
| Stretching 'cross Black River Swamp
|
| I can hear them bullfrogs croaking
|
| In the blackness of the night
|
| Calling me back to my childhood
|
| Down here in Black River Swamp
|
| Saw my name carved on a big oak tree
|
| Down there by the fishing hole
|
| And the smell of old Black River
|
| Where the waters are deep and cold
|
| I can hear the hound dogs howlin'
|
| Chasin' that old fox
|
| Where I used to roam
|
| Down there in the country
|
| Callin' me to Black River Swamp
|
| I can hear them hound dogs howlin'
|
| Chasin' that old fox
|
| Where I used to roam
|
| Down there in the country
|
| Callin' me to Black River Swamp
|
| I was born in the country
|
| Down where the cotton grows
|
| Turnin' off the main highway
|
| Goin' down that country road
|
| There’s a place down in the country
|
| Where the pine trees grow so tall
|
| Go across that log bridge
|
| Stretching 'cross Black River Swamp |