The red clay hills of Alabama Know Jack Carlton well. He's walked them and he's ridden them More than time can tell.
I knew him in his Springtime When he tried to show me how To shoot a bucking shot gun and laughed to see me scowl. When it almost knocked me over from my shoulder to the ground, Trying to scare his girly cousin with its ferocious sound.
Carolyn let him roam the hills and I tagged along to see what adventure could befall us from doing a daring deed. They took me to the drive-in, those 'ol country boys and blew smoke into my long hair it was one of their joys.
Then in the blackest midnight we drove down to the pond to look for bottle fishes that floated in the fronds. We pushed out the old boat to the water dark & deep and rowed the eerie pond to where the bottles seep. Then suddenly from somewhere a splash is what we heard, "Aw: said brave old Carlton, "It was just a bird". But then another splash rocked the boat around and Carlton grabbed the paddle and rowed for higher ground.
It was just that 'ol beaver S.J. laughed when he heard Settin' on the bank a howling, that he'd gotten ya'll so scared.
When his foot caught a fish hook, he cut it out with a knife and we rode horses bareback at his friends', we were a sight.
Once I walked with him on beaches when we thought that we were grown, and we smoked Pall Mall cigarettes and talked of things unknown, like what we would do with life as we stood at its door,and we turned our backs on Springtime, it was gone forevermore..
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