those cotton fields were hot and that tractor never was my kind of livin and when i hit sixteen i had my size and i hit the road to freedom and i m glad i wasn t there to see my momma cause she must ve cried for hours i still hear her sayin to me get your guitar and pick the wildwood flower now memphis was big and it was hard to find a job and so i didn t and it was easier to go back to the country and it was more like livin now i ve been down every road and i ve stood on every porch where they were givin and if they had a dime on an hour i would pick the wildwood flower it s hard to turn around and look back down the roads that i have traveled cause like a never endin ball of twine my dreams have come unraveled now as evening lays its shawl across the shoulders of my life i find i couldn t tie my life together with guitar strings and a poet s heartfelt mind and i m glad i wasn t there to see my momma cause she must ve cried for hours i still hear her saying to me get your guitar and pick the wildwood flower play it like this son