(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...