I remember the smell   Of the creosote plant   When we had to eat on Easter   With my crazy old uncle and aunt      The lived in a big house   Antebellum style   And the wind would blow across the old bayou   When I was a tranquil little child      Life was just a tire swing   Jambalaya is the only song I could sing   Blackberry picking, eating fried chicken   Never knew a thing about pain   Life was just a tire swing      In the early summer   My folks packed me off to camp   Me and my cousin Baxter   And out pup tent with a lamp      But in a few days Baxter went home   And left me by myself   But 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   Jambalaya was the only song I could sing   Chasing after sparrows with rubber tipped arrows   Knowing, I could never hurt a thing   Life was just a tire swing      And I've never been   West of New Orleans or East of Pensacola   My only contact with the outside world   Was an RCA Victrola      Then Elvis would sing   And then I'd dream about expensive cars   Who would have figured, that twenty years later   I'd be rubbing shoulders with the stars   Life is just a tire swing      In the early morning, on an Illinois road   I fell asleep at the wheel   But was quickly waken up   By a Ma Bell telephone poll      A bunch of Grant wood faces screaming   Is he still alive?   But through the window I could see it hanging from the tree   And I knew that I had survived      Life is still a tire swing   Jambalaya is the best song I can sing   Blackberry picking, eating fried chicken   Though, I finally learned a lot about pain   Life is just a tire swing