On the banks of the ole Bandera runs a barefoot child
Takin' Sunday-go-to-meetin' shortcuts
He's out across those open fields, down those dusty drives
The hills that wear blue bonnets, they look like a print dressing gown
Thru the summer rains, that pur down like honey
They help make the mushrooms grow and that always make the B-man dance
Once we ran barefoot through those clovers so wet with dew
Like wild Comanches' crazy horses on the loose
Chorus:
Sometimes it feels like a song
Sometimes it makes me feel like it's gone
Now it all feels like a song
You can hear a screen door slammin', hey let's run a foot race to the creek
Where you see clear down to the bottom of the deep end
Dependin' on where you stand, how you look, and what you want to see
Monkey vines, swimmin' holes - weren't they always around the bend
And that rope we used to swing on, now it just hangs tattered by the wind