Texty: Trent Willmon. Little More Livin. Sometimes I Miss Ya.

Well, I'm laid up on a creek-bank,
With a cold one in my hand.
It's eighty-eight in the shade;
I got the bait in an old tin can.
An' ol' Blue's been a barkin'
At the bobber on the end of my pole.
Yeah, sometimes I miss you, baby:
Most the time, I don't.

Sundown, I go down,
Shoot the bull at Ernie's bar.
An' the boys in the band'll let me stand in,
An' play guitar,
The bar-keep'll let me camp out in the corner,
If I can't can't make it home.
Yeah, sometimes I miss you, baby:
Most the time, I don't.

Yeah, sometimes I miss your big city lovin',
An' the way you sparkle like Hollywood.
You can't blame a country boy for tryin',
An' I, I did the best I could;
I did the best I could.

I sold all the cows an' put it down,
On a house you just had to have.
You changed your mind, but that's all right:
We only lost about nine or ten grand.
An' by the time your new boyfriend - slash - lawyer,
Came to pick you up in his shiny new Jaguar, I was flat broke.
Sometimes I miss you, baby:
But most the time, I don't.

Yeah, sometimes I miss your sweet lovin',
An' your high heels, you look so good.
But nothin's worse than an unhappy woman,
An' I, I did the best I could;
I did the best I could.

I take your photograph to my dart board,
An' I take careful aim at your picture;
An' sometimes, sometimes,
Sometimes, I miss ya.

Sometimes I miss your lovin',
An' your high heels, you look so good.
You can't blame a country boy for tryin',
An' I, I did the best I could;
I did the best I could.
I did the best I could.

Now, I'm laid up on a creek-bank,
With a cold one in my hand.