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It's a nickel for the fiddler
It's a nickel for his tune
It's a nickel for the tambourine kind of afternoon.
And it's a high holiday on the twenty-first of June
And it's country music in the park and everybody's ruined

It's fountains full of dogs and kids
And it's streaky apple pie.
It's the ones who came to play
And the ones just passin' by

It's coats of many colours
And it almost makes me cry
It's ice cream on a stick
And it's somethin' you can’t buy

It's a fiddler from Kentucky
Who swears he's eighty three
And he's fiddled every contest
From here to Cripple Creek

It's old ones and it's young ones
And it's plain they have agreed
And it's country music in the park
As far as they can see

It's a nickel for the fiddler
It's a nickel for his tune
It's a nickel for the tambourine kind of afternoon.
And it's a high holiday on the twenty-first of June
And it's country music in the park and everybody's ruined

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Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.