Pick the Wildwood Flower

Those cotton fields were hot
 And that tractor never was my kind of livin'
 And when I hit sixteen
 I had my size and I hit the road to freedom
 And I'm glad I wasn't there to see my Momma
 'Cause she must've cried for hours
 I still hear her sayin' to me
 "Get your guitar and pick the 'Wildwood Flower'"
 Now Memphis was big
 And it was hard to find a job and so I didn't
 And it was easier to go back to the country
 And it was more like livin'
 Now, I've been down every road
 And I've stood on every porch where they were givin'
 And if they had a dime on an hour
 I would pick the "Wildwood Flower"
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 It's hard to turn around
 And look back down the roads that I have traveled
 'Cause like a never endin' ball of twine
 My dreams have come unraveled
 Now as evening lays its shawl
 Across the shoulders of my life, I find
 I couldn't tie my life together
 With guitar strings and a poet's heartfelt mind
 And I'm glad I wasn't there to see my Momma
 'Cause she must've cried for hours
 I still hear her saying to me
 "Get your guitar and pick the 'Wildwood Flower'"
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 (Play it like this, son)