(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...