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Words and Music by ROGER MILLER

I've been a traveler most of my life,
I never took a home, I never took a wife.
Ran away young and decided to roam,
But now I'd like to see my mama and my papa back home.

Chorus:	Home, where the rivers run cold,
	The water tastes good, the winter ain't cold.	 
	Home, where the trees grow tall, 
	The home fires burn, and the whippoorwills call.

I remember stories that my pappy used to tell,
My eyes would get big, and his chest would swell.
I could sit for hours and listen with glee
As he'd tell of how he lived when he's a boy like me.

Repeat chorus

Mama dear, mama do you still love your boy?
After all my roamin' can I still bring you joy?
Mom, you sent a letter, got it not long ago,
And you said to come home 'cause you're missin' me so.

Repeat chorus


Copyright 1959 by Tree Publishing Co.

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