When I was young and in my prime (in my prime!),I left my home in caroline.Now all I do is sit and pine, for all those folks I left behind.I got the blue ridge mountain blues, and I sat right here to say, »my grip is packed to travel, and Iâm back to ramble,To my blue ridge far away. »Iâm goinâ to stay right by my pa, Iâm goinâ to do right by my ma,Iâll hang around the cabin door, no work or worry anymore.I got the blue ridge mountain blues, goinâ to see my old oak tree,Gonna hunt the possum where the corn cob blossom,In my blue ridge far away.Woo!I see a haze of snowy white, I see a window with light,I seem to hear them both sigh, « where is my wandârin boy tonight? « I got the blue ridge mountain blues, and I stay right here to say, »every day Iâm countinâ âtil I climb that mountain,In my blue ridge far away. »