Along Old Fence Lines

Along old fence lines

Truth rings like the music of a mockingbird,

Where a man is still as worthy as his word...

Along old fence lines.

And I see my grandpa resting by that old Artesian well,

Ah, there's watermelon dripping down my chin,

The ladies in their finest dresses coming out for church,

And so I guess it must be Wednesday evening...

Along old fence lines.

Across old bridges

Are fragments of a world that didn't turn so fast,

But if you were headed somewhere, friend, they'd let you past...

Across old bridges.

And I see those kids on Shetland ponies out near Clifton's Store,

The old men playing checkers by the gate,

And Haggard's singin' "Mama Tried" somewhere along the dial,

And I believe it must be about 1968...

Across old bridges.

There's a place between this two-lane highway and the past,

Where old friends pass gently through my mind.

I see them for a moment, then they slowly slip away,

And melt back through the distant lens of time,

Along old fence lines...

Across old bridges...

Beside old rail yards...

Along old fence lines.