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Blackwood Hill
Beccy Cole
Text File
key: E
E
In my mind I see a picture and my thoughts begin to roam
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to the rowlden hills and valleys that surround my childhood home
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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
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scattered all around are pages of the songs that I would sing
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and there I am cross legged on a dream
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I'd sing coat of many colours, I knew every word by heart
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and I'd fumble through the changes on an old flat top guitar
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make believe the city hills rolled into the smokey mountains tennessee.
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I'd swap bubble gum for curtain calls with other kids my age
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and the shows would last for hours on the Opry tree house stage
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and the dreams of little children echoe still, on Blackwood hill.
I recall the day I packed my bags and waved Blackwood goodbye
rowlden 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
Chorus
Bridge:
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Every day was full of music, family and best friends.
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troubles of the world erased, by games of lets pretend.
Chorus
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The little girl inside of me is dreaming still, on blackwood hill.