| When I was just a youngster, way back in the hills
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| We had an old battery wireless, it gave us lots of thrills
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| We knew all the country programs, what time when they came on
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| Mostly on the weekend, we’d listen to those songs
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| Jimmie Rodgers and old Tex Ritter, many more soon on the scene
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| Carson Robison, Gene Autry, they galloped across the screen
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| Then a young man from New Zealand, with a style all of his own
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| He played what they called a Spanish guitar and he yodelled up a storm
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| My dad he played the fiddle, and he laid it down his arm
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| He’d sit on the old front verandah in the evenings in the calm
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| I got myself an old guitar, and I soon strummed along
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| But I’ve always had a weakness for those old time country songs
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| They are my fondest memories, that I never will forget
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| And when things get tough in this business, in memory I go back yet
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| Oh, there’s nothing like this music, it just hangs on and on
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| Yes, I’ve always had a weakness for those old time country songs
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| As a boy I dreamed of travel, to cover this big old land
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| So I headed north in the '50s, in a homemade caravan
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| Early years had corrugations, so we had no time to stall
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| But I still say to this very day, they were the best damn times of all |