| Front porch sittin in an old rockin chair
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| The sun is hot in the Texas sky
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| Garden growin clothes out on the line
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| Dusty road when a car goes by
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| Story tellin of days long ago
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| And the only place she’d ever been
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| Singin softly This World Is Not My Home
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| Memories take me back again
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| When I was young and Grandma wasn’t old
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| When she guided me as I watched life unfold
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| Anything we didn’t have we didn’t really need to hold
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| When I was young and Grandma wasn’t old
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| She’d throw a party and all of her friends
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| Would gather around the quilting frames
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| They’d always call out for me to come inside
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| And give me nickels and dimes to sing
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| It makes me happy that I can still go back
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| My memories are so clear
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| Of how It used to be when I never dreamed
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| Of ever lookin back from here
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| When I was young and Grandma wasn’t old
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| When she guided me as I watched life unfold
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| Anything we didn’t have we didn’t really need to hold
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| When I was young and Grandma wasn’t old
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| When I was young and Grandma wasn’t old |