Country in my Soul

I have been to Moron, Spain,
where the bull is still king,
To Vegas where gambling is my bane,
played cards, and listened to Elvis sing.
I'd trade them all for a walk in the country
and a quiet nap under an old oak tree.

I have been to southern cities:
New Orleans Mardi Gras crowds,
streets vibrant, floats and pretties;
Hard to see the sky with smog clouds.
I'd rather celebrate silence in the country
and have a quiet nap under an old oak tree.

I went to Los Angeles on a winter day.
A quick drive past Hollywood and glamour;
nothing there to make me want to stay.
I was scared of all the bustle and clamor.
I'd trade all the glitz for the country
and a quiet nap under an old oak tree.

When my sister made Omaha her home,
I spent two weeks kind of poking around, but it
was no place for a country boy to roam.
I had no liking for continuous sound.
I went to renew my soul in the country
and took a quiet nap under an old oak tree.