Along Old Fence Lines (Burns Brian)

Along old fence lines Truth rings like the music of a mockingbird, Where a man is still as worthy as his word... Along old fence lines. And I see my grandpa resting by that old Artesian well, Ah, there's watermelon dripping down my chin, The ladies in their finest dresses coming out for church, And so I guess it must be Wednesday evening... Along old fence lines. Across old bridges Are fragments of a world that didn't turn so fast, But if you were headed somewhere, friend, they'd let you past... Across old bridges. And I see those kids on Shetland ponies out near Clifton's Store, The old men playing checkers by the gate, And Haggard's singin' "Mama Tried" somewhere along the dial, And I believe it must be about 1968... Across old bridges. There's a place between this two-lane highway and the past, Where old friends pass gently through my mind. I see them for a moment, then they slowly slip away, And melt back through the distant lens of time, Along old fence lines... Across old bridges... Beside old rail yards... Along old fence lines.