Beccy Cole - Blackwood Hill Lyrics

In my mind I see a picture
And my thoughts begin to roam
To the rolling hills and valleys
That surround my childhood home
I can almost smell the flowers growing wild along the track down to the stream

I hear grandpa telling stories
Sitting on the front porch swing
Scattered on the ground are pages
Of the songs that I would sing
And there I am cross legged with a drink

I'd sing coat of many colours
I knew every word by heart
And I'd thumble through the changes
On an old flat top guitar
Make believe the city hills roll into the smoky mountains Tennessee

I'd swap bubble gum for curtain calls
With other kids my age
And the shows would last for hours on the
Opry tree house stage
And the dreams of little children echo still
On Blackwood Hill

I recall the day I packed my bags
Waved Blackwood goodbye
Rolling hills were in my rear view mirror
Stars were in my eyes
And I traded hairbrush microphones and tree house shows for lights and centre stage

Sometimes the road I lived on
Leads me back to my old world
On the front porch of my childhood home
Sits a little girl
Her innocence helps me turn back the page

When I'd sing coat of many colours
I knew every word by heart
And I'd thumble through the changes
On an old flat top guitar
Make believe the city hills roll into the smoky mountains Tennessee

I'd swap bubble gum for curtain calls
With other kids my age
And the shows would last for hours on the
Opry tree house stage
And the dreams of little children echo still
On Blackwood Hill

Every day was full of music
Family and best friends
Troubles of the world erased
By games of lets pretend

I'd sing coat of many colours
I knew every word by heart
And I'd thumble through the changes
On an old flat top guitar
Make believe the city hills roll into the smoky mountains Tennessee

I'd swap bubble gum for curtain calls
With other kids my age
And the shows would last for hours on the
Opry tree house stage
And the dreams of little children echo still
On Blackwood Hill

The little girl inside of me is dreaming still
On Blackwood Hill