I remember the smell of the creosote plant,
|
When we'd have to eat on Easter with my
|
Crazy old uncle and aunt.
|
They lived in a big house Ante Bellum style,
|
And the wind would blow across the old bayou,
|
And I was a tranquil little child.
|
|
Life was just a tire swing.
|
'Jambalaya' was the only song I could sing.
|
Blackberry pickin', eatin' fried chicken,
|
And I never knew a thing about pain.
|
Life was just a tire swing.
|
|
In a few summers my folks packed me off to camp;
|
Yeah, me and my cousin' Baxter
|
In our pup tent with a lamp.
|
And in a few days Baxter went home,
|
And he left me by myself.
|
And I knew that I'd stay, it was better that way,
|
And I could get along without any help.
|
Life was just a tire swing.
|
|
And I've never been west of New Orleans
|
Nor east of Pensacola.
|
My only contact with the outside
|
world was a n R.C.A. Victrola.
|
Elvis would sing and then I'd dream about
|
expensive cars, and who would've figured twenty
|
years later I'd be rubbing shoulders with the stars.
|
Life was just a tire swing.
|
|
'Jambalaya' was the only song I could sing.
|
Chasin' after sparrows with rubber tip arrows,
|
Knowin' I could never hurt a thing,
|
And life was just a tire swing.
|
|
Then the other morning on some Illinois road
|
I fell asleep at the wheel,
|
But was quickly wakened up by a 'Ma Bell'
|
telephone pole, and a bunch of Grant Wood
|
Faces screaming, 'Is he still alive?'
|
But through the window could see
|
it hangin' from a tree, and I knew
|
I had survived.
|
|
Life was just a tire swing.
|
Jambalaya's still the best song that I can sing.
|
Blackberry pickin', eatin' fried chicken,
|
And I finally learned a lot about pain,
|
'cause life is just a tire swing.
|
|
-----------------
|
Life Is Just A Tire Swing
|
| Jimmy Buffett |
