Lyrics

I remember the smell of the creosote plant
When we’d have to eat on Easter with my
Crazy old uncle and aunt
They lived in a big house Ante Bellum style
And the wind would blow across the old bayou
And I was a tranquil little child

Life was just a tire swing
Jambalaya was the only song I could sing
Blackberry pickin’, eatin’ fried chicken
And I never knew a thing about pain
Life was just a tire swing

In a few summers my folks packed me off to camp
Yeah, me and my cousin’ Baxter
In our pup tent with a lamp
And in a few days Baxter went home
And he left me by myself
And 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
Blackberry pickin’, eatin’ fried chicken
And I never knew a thing about pain
Life was just a tire swing

And I’d never been west of New Orleans
Nor east of Pensacola
My only contact with the outside
world was an R.C.A. Victrola
Elvis would sing and then I’d dream about
expensive cars, and who would’ve figured twenty
years later I’d be rubbing shoulders with the stars
Life was just a tire swing

Then the other morning on some Illinois road
I fell asleep at the wheel
But was quickly wakened up by a ‘Ma Bell’
telephone pole, and a bunch of Grant Wood
Faces screaming, ‘Is he still alive?’
But through the window could see
it hangin’ from a tree, and I knew
I had survived

Life was just a tire swing
Jambalaya’s still the best song that I can sing
Blackberry pickin’, eatin’ fried chicken
And I finally learned a lot about pain
’cause life is just a tire swing