Well I'm goin' down to the rivernI've got a canepole in my handnI've got my redworms in a Maxwell house coffee cannI'm gonna sit under ashade tree on a riverbank where it's coolnI'm gonna close my eyes and dream and let the cork Bob away my bluesnnWell I wake up every mornin' I pick peaches all daynAnd on Saturday night we'll have a dance or two we might waller in the haynNow the only thing that ever whipped my panWas this bad dude called old agenAnd his last years was his best yearsnAnd this is what he had to saynnHe said boy I've worked this dirt all my life but things ain't been good for awhilenWhy don't you move to the city make a little money you might be the first one innThe family ever to die with a smilenWell I took his advice things goin' wellnBut my friends are far and fewnBut whoever said a city boy can't have the country bluesnWhoever said a city boy can't have the country bluesnWhoever said a city boy can't have the country bluesnWell honey they ain't talked to me and you