| Well I come from a place where the bluegrass grows
|
| Where the rivers run and the music flows
|
| And I carry it with me everywhere I go
|
| Cause underneath my skin
|
| Well I’ve really always been
|
| Just a boy who comes from where the bluegrass grows
|
| Well the first sound I remember as a little barefoot boy
|
| Was my daddy’s Martin guitar and a five string banjo
|
| Skipping stones on Cripple Creek and climbing up Foggy Mountain
|
| And finding my way home to the sound of the banjo
|
| And oh how sweet that sound
|
| Well I come from a place where the bluegrass grows
|
| Where the rivers run and the music flows
|
| And I carry it with me everywhere I go
|
| Cause underneath my skin
|
| Well I’ve really always been
|
| Just a boy who comes from where the bluegrass grows
|
| Well I learned to play that guitar and I set out on the road
|
| But I never would’ve dreamed all the places I’d go
|
| From the Opry stage to Carnegie my simple songs have carried me
|
| But I come right back home when I hear a banjo
|
| And oh how sweet that sound
|
| Well I come from a place where the bluegrass grows
|
| Where the rivers run and the music flows
|
| And I carry it with me everywhere I go
|
| Cause underneath my skin
|
| Well I’ve really always been
|
| Just a boy who comes from where the bluegrass grows
|
| Where the bluegrass grows
|
| And oh how sweet that sound
|
| Well I come from a place where the bluegrass grows
|
| Where the rivers run and the music flows
|
| And I carry it with me everywhere I go
|
| Cause underneath my skin
|
| Well I’ve really always been
|
| Just a boy who comes from where the bluegrass
|
| I come from where the bluegrass
|
| I’m just a boy from where the bluegrass grows |