I was raised in the shadow of an old cotton mill,
back when believin' was in style.
Smalltown heaven and a big-eyed boy made sweet music for a while.
My daddy worked hard down at the facotry.
Nights he went to G.I. school.
He didn't know nothin' 'bout the silver spoon,
but he lived by the golden rule.
Summer nights he was gone;
me and mama stayed home,
out on the front porch swing,
wishin' on the stars in the southern sky,
and sometimes we used to sing.
We were leaning,
leaning on the everlasting arms of love,
livin' all the simple joys this Dixie boy is made of.
Got my real educationfrom the T.V. station
and good ole boys down at the park.
The say "Hey, Willie" and those rock-a-billies played their way into my
heart.
I remember the old folks sittin'
'round talkin' on laidback Sunday afternoons.
They said them young folks sure got a hard road.
Oh, they're growin' up too soon.
Now I know they were right,
and as I sit here tonight out on the front porch
swing, the stars are shinin' in my young boy's eyes,
just like they did for me;
We are leaning, leaning on the everlasting arms of love,
livin' all the simple joys this Dixie boy is made of.
