(Buddy Sheffield)      I remember the time when the bloom was on the cotton   When our hearts chased the clouds like the swallows on their wings   Winter cares which we're already few or soon forgotten   Just sittin' on the front porch swing.      Oh, we sit every Sunday and watched the married ladies   And we dreamed of white dresses and church bells in the spring   And they talked and painted their nails while they let us hold their babies   Sittin' on the front porch swing.      Where was I when the time came to join the married ladies   Why did I paint the nail when the finger had no ring   Why do I sit at night and long to hold their baby   Sittin' on the front porch swing.      When the mind longs to follow but the memory erases   And the lips form the words that the heart no longer sings   When the leaves in the hollow have been died to match our faces   Sittin' on the front porch swing.      Oh, we'll dream of the time when the bloom was on the cotton   When our hearts chased the clouds like the swallows on their wings   But the words to the rhyme are the only things forgotten   Sittin' on the front porch swing.      Sittin' on the front porch swing...