won't you pack your bags and come?

i know it's not time
there are more summer nights to come
and i can already hear a friend
playing on his kettle drum
and there's a hot campfire
near plenty of ice cold beer
i might dream of being somewhere else
but why not be content staying here?
in my small town
with the FM radio
the mountains are flat
and there's no sign of an early snow
the grass is pasture green,
the boys wear their proud red necks
the sweet girls do their square dance
jumping off backyard decks
for their big chance at romance
stopping only to laugh at simple jokes
yes, we're having a river party
thinking of ourselves as simple folks
where the back seat is a great place to meet
and bright red lip stick is a famous country music lick
for Bobbie Sue and me and you
and don't feel bad because we're not sad
it's okay to pull up an easy chair and stay
no one has to be profound or have an important word to say
the night air
gets us high and in that evening sky
the harvest moon shines for lovers
who get the silly shivers under covers
and a kiss from a favorite Miss
or a Mister, becomes a permanent memory
this ain't no time for breathless brevity
it's time for lingering by the open window
with what you know and i know
it's when swinging on the front porch
is still the best way to carry the torch
for your special someone
so, don't ask me what i've done
won't you pack your bags and come?