Oh, I like to rise when the sun she rises
I like to hear them small birds singing
merrily upon their layland.
And to ride for the life of a country kid
and to ramble in the new mown hay.
and that's how the seasons
But of all the times, if I choose I may,
it's to ramble in the new mown hay.
Oh, I like to rise when the sun she rises
I like to hear them small birds singing
Merrily upon their lay land
And hurrah for the life of the country kid
And to ramble in the new -mown hay
In the winter when the sky is gray
We edge and ditch our lives away
In the summer when the sun shines gay
We go ramblin' the new morn' hay
Oh, I like to rise when the sun she rises
I like to hear them small
Merrily upon their layin'
Let her ride for the life of the country kid
And to ramble in the new morn' hey
rise when the sun she rises
I like to hear them small birds singing
merrily upon their lay land,
and to ride for the life of a country kid,
and to ramble in the new -mown hay.