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

Antebellum style

And the wind would blow across the old bayou

When I was a tranquil little child Life was just a tire swing

Jambalaya 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 our 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

Jambalaya 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 Pensacola

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 Illinois road

I fell asleep at the wheel

But was quickly waken up

By a Ma Bell telephone pole A bunch of Grant wood 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

Jambalaya is the best song I can sing

Blackberry picking, eating fried chicken

Though, I finally learned a lot about pain

Life is just a tire swing