by Cpl. Robert Lin Cook
Jan 1942-Sep 1945
I ain't what you'd call
a country boy
but in their music
I do take joy.
When a fiddle starts to play
in that good old fashion way
then I know I'm where
I want to be.
I guess it's 'cause
I've always been a
friend of the common man;
I feel what he feels,
I'm part of the working clan.
I see the country's strength
in the sweat upon his brow,
in the railroads and factories
and days behind a plow.
In the fields and forests,
in the mines and ranches, too,
as he builds and produces
for the good of
me and you.
I ain't fond of rock and roll
although I've had my fill,
I hear it on the radio
and it ain't no thrill.
I'll leave it to the young'uns
who don't seem to know
good music from a racket
and that's the way it goes.
When I hear a guitar
and a mandolin
backed up by a banjo
with a fiddle thrown in,
I know I'll hear some music
from away back when.
When country folk
gathered in the evening
when all the chores were done
and had themselves a jamboree,
some good old-fashion fun.
I guess I'm behind the times
but, hell, I don't care;
I like what I like
and it's only fair.
I give to you your choice,
let's just leave it there.
Yeeehaw!
