The Ballad of Sycamore Row


I grew up living in Sycamore Row,
Where the sun shines bright and the tall trees grow,
And the farmers reap just what they sow,
The pace of life, well it’s rather slow.

So I packed my bags and ran for the hills
With my old guitar and some dollar bills
And checked into some old motel,
On the highway by the Wishing Well.

When the money ran out I hitched a ride
In a beat up Chevy with a guy called Clyde
He said he’d take me to the other side, but
His truck broke down and his engine fried.

So I set off walking down the railroad track,
Until I reached the station, then I jumped on the back
Of the late night mail train bound for the coast,
And slept beneath the mail bag post.

The train kept going through the night,
As it traveled east towards the light,
I could almost smell the sea, when I
Realised someone sleeping next to me.

She told me that her name was Brie,
And she’d run away to find someone like me,
So she held my hand as the sun came up,
And I let her share my coffee cup.

Then she said “do you know where I really wanna go?
To a small town east of Colorado
Where the sun shines bright and the tall trees grow,
There’s a cute place there called Sycamore Row”.

So I’m back now living where the farmers sow
Where the sun still shines, if you wanna know,
And I love my life and my new wife,
I even quite like Sycamore Row.

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