Blackwood Hill

In my mind I see a picture and my thoughts begin to roam

to the rowlden hills and valleys that surround my childhood home

I can almost smell the flowers growing wild along the track down to the stream.

I hear grandpa telling stories sitting on the front porch swing

scattered all around are pages of the songs that I would sing

and there I am cross legged on a dream

Chorus:

I'd sing coat of many colours, I knew every word by heart

and I'd fumble through the changes on an old flat top guitar

make believe the city hills rolled into the smokey mountains tennessee.

I'd swap bubble gum for curtain calls with other kids my age

and the shows would last for hours on the Opry tree house stage

and the dreams of little children echoe still, on Blackwood hill.

I recall the day I packed my bags and waved Blackwood goodbye

rowlden hills were in my rear view mirror, stars were in my eyes

and I traded hairbrush microphones and tree house shows for lights and centre stage.

sometimes the road I lived on leads me back to my old world

on the front porch of my childhood home sits a little girl

her innocence helps me turn back the page,

when

Chorus

Bridge:

Every day was full of music, family and best friends.

troubles of the world erased, by games of lets pretend.

Chorus

The little girl inside of me is dreaming still, on blackwood hill.

In my mind I see a picture and my thoughts begin to roam

to the rowlden hills and valleys that surround my childhood home

I can almost smell the flowers growing wild along the track down to the stream.

I hear grandpa telling stories sitting on the front porch swing

scattered all around are pages of the songs that I would sing

and there I am cross legged on a dream

Chorus:

I'd sing coat of many colours, I knew every word by heart

and I'd fumble through the changes on an old flat top guitar

make believe the city hills rolled into the smokey mountains tennessee.

I'd swap bubble gum for curtain calls with other kids my age

and the shows would last for hours on the Opry tree house stage

and the dreams of little children echoe still, on Blackwood hill.

I recall the day I packed my bags and waved Blackwood goodbye

rowlden hills were in my rear view mirror, stars were in my eyes

and I traded hairbrush microphones and tree house shows for lights and centre stage.

sometimes the road I lived on leads me back to my old world

on the front porch of my childhood home sits a little girl

her innocence helps me turn back the page,

when

Chorus

Bridge:

Every day was full of music, family and best friends.

troubles of the world erased, by games of lets pretend.

Chorus

The little girl inside of me is dreaming still, on blackwood hill