I remember the smell
Of the creosote plant
When we had to eat on Easter
With my crazy old uncle and aunt
The lived in a big house
Antibellum style
And the wind would blow across the old bayou
When I was a tranquil little child

Life was just a tire swing
Jumbalaya is the only song I could sing
Blackberry picking, eating fried chicken
Never knew a thing about pain
Life was just a tire swing

In the early summer
My folks packed me off to camp
Me and my cousin Baxter
And out pup tent with a lamp
But in a few days Baxter went home
And left me by myself
But 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
Jumbalaya was the only song I could sing
Chasing after sparrows with rubber tipped arrows
Knowing I could never hurt a thing
Life was just a tire swing

And I've never been west of New Orleans or East of Pennsicola
My only contact with the outside world was an RCA victrola
Then Elvis would sing
And then I'd dream
About expensive cars
Who would have figured
That twenty years later
I'd be rubbing shoulders with the stars
Life is just a tire swing

In the early morning
On an Illinios road
I fell asleep at the wheel but was quickly waken up
By a Ma Bell telephone poll
A bunch of Grantwood faces screaming,
"Is he still alive?"
But through the window I could see it hanging from the tree
And I knew that I had survived

Life is still a tire swing
Jumbalaya is the best song I can sing
Blackberry picking, eating fried chicken
Though I finnally learned a lot about pain
Life is just a tire swing