(Buddy Sheffield) I remember the time when the bloom was on the cotton When our hearts chased the clouds like the swallows on their wings Winter cares which we're already few or soon forgotten Just sittin' on the front porch swing. Oh, we sit every Sunday and watched the married ladies And we dreamed of white dresses and church bells in the spring And they talked and painted their nails while they let us hold their babies Sittin' on the front porch swing. Where was I when the time came to join the married ladies Why did I paint the nail when the finger had no ring Why do I sit at night and long to hold their baby Sittin' on the front porch swing. When the mind longs to follow but the memory erases And the lips form the words that the heart no longer sings When the leaves in the hollow have been died to match our faces Sittin' on the front porch swing. Oh, we'll dream of the time when the bloom was on the cotton When our hearts chased the clouds like the swallows on their wings But the words to the rhyme are the only things forgotten Sittin' on the front porch swing. Sittin' on the front porch swing...