She came down from Boston to be closer to her mother
and try to taste a little of country life.
She was her mother's only daughter from a good school where
They taught her how to walk and talk and fold a napkin right.
I was boots and Levis born for drivin' cows and plantin'
corn and anything that sparkled caught my eye.
She was a different kind of flower, nothin' like my country clover,
but I figured I could touch her if I tried.
I only meant to touch her just one time and let her go,
but touchin' her was lovin' her and how was I to know
that she'd be the kind of flower calloused hands would never hold.
While I was reachin' for her body, she was reachin' for my soul.
She went back to Boston, my soul is all it cost me,
just to touch her, now I wish I'd never tried.
She was a different kind of flower and after havin'
known her I just can't keep country clover on my mind.