(Dolly Parton)
|
She was born in a place called Blue Valley
|
At the foot of the Tennessee hills
|
With the blue birds and blue bells
|
And blue mountain water
|
And the sound of the Blue Whippoorwill
|
But there was no peace in the valley
|
Her daddy, a cruel, ruthless man
|
Used and abused her mind and her body
|
So her mama said run while you can
|
So at fifteen she took to the highway
|
Belongings and guitar in hand
|
And she buried herself in her music
|
The one thing she did understand
|
|
And she sings like a bird and she writes like a poet
|
Her voice has that high, lonesome sound
|
She hurts, and her songs are the best way to show it
|
So the Blue Valley songbird keeps traveling around
|
|
She hopes someday she will make it
|
And everyone says that she will
|
When she comes to town, crowds flock around
|
To see the girl from the Tennessee hills
|
She writes her letter back home to her mama
|
In care of the preacher in town
|
They're sacred to her so she reads them at church
|
And so her daddy cannot track her down
|
|
And she sings like a bird and she cries like a baby
|
Whenever she turns off the lights
|
She's a whole lot lonesome and a little bit crazy
|
From mem'ries and miseries and dreams gone awry
|
|
Blue dress, blue shoes, a blue Cadillac
|
A band dressed in blue by her side
|
Instruments tied to the top and the back
|
'Cause the Blue Valley songbird is singing tonight
|
|
One nighters, honky tonks, years flying by
|
She never made it, but Lord knows she tries
|
Expressing the feelings she holds inside
|
And the Blue Valley songbird is singing tonight
|
Oh the Blue Valley songbird is singing tonight
|
|
And she sings like a bird and she writes like a poet
|
|
-----------------
|
Blue Valley Songbird
|
| Dolly Parton |
