Country roads dusty

Daddy’s old truck had a dent in the side,

Four bald tires and a rough old ride.

We’d leave before daylight,

head out of town,

With a couple of fishing poles and the windows rolled down.

The river was high from the rain last night,

The morning was cool and the sky was bright.

Daddy’d bait my hook,

then he’d grin at me,

Saying, “Son, this is where you’re supposed to be.”

I like my country roads dusty,

My creek water cold and clear.

A little bit of rain on a tin roof,

And the ones I love close and near.

I don’t need a mansion on a mountainside,

Or a Cadillac sitting in the yard.

Just a little piece of South Carolina,

And a life that don’t have to be

so hard.

Friday rolled around, and the sun sank low,

So I called up the boys,

said, “Come on, let’s go.” We drove past the fields where the

corn stood tall, With an old country station playing through it all.

We stopped by the bridge where the black creek bends,

Talked about the future and laughed with our friends.

There wasn’t much money,

but we didn’t mind,

We had the whole wide world and a little free

time.

I like my country roads dusty,

My creek water cold and clear.

A little bit of rain on a tin roof,

And the ones I love close and near.

I don’t need a mansion on a mountainside,

Or a Cadillac sitting in the yard.

Just a little piece of South Carolina,

And a life that don’t have to be

so hard.

Now the years roll on like a freight train bound,

And some of the old boys have moved out of town.

But I still take that road when I need some air,

Past the old fishing hole where we used to sit there.

The trees have grown tall,

and the bridge has turned gray,

But I can still hear those boys from back in the day.

Funny how a place

never really lets go,

Of the ones who grew up on that old dirt road.

If there’s one thing this old life has taught me,

It’s that money ain’t the measure of a man.

It’s the people who stand beside you,

And the memories you make while you

can.

I like my country roads dusty,

My creek water cold and clear.

A little bit of rain on a tin roof,

And the ones I love close and near.

When my time here is over,

and my working days are through,

I’ll remember those old backroads and the friends I once knew.

I don’t need a whole lot when my time comes around,

Just a little South Carolina dirt beneath the ground.

Yeah, a little South Carolina dirt…

That’s where my roots run deep.

And those old backroads of my childhood

Are the memories I’ll always keep.