Grass Valley

I remember when I first drove with my dad up to Grass Valley Four hours north of San Francisco, just outside Nevada City The road winding through those dried brown hills of gold country Was ten years old and happy Out of school a week early We drove past the welcome sign, people playing 'neath the pines Heard the music floating from a stage Pitch dark town and walked around My heart opened to the sound I didn't know it then, but my life had turned a page Standing 'round jamming to the sound of Little Annie Baptized in the campgrounds of Grass Valley Deadheads and tie-dye array Dog music devotees Like nothing I had ever heard or seen It was jamgrass for the hippies Old stuff from the fifties Just about nothing in between I stood and tried to play along Boy, I only knew a couple songs While bolder kids sat in with the bands I watched and envied from afar Head bowed down over my guitar Praying to catch that magic in my hands Standing 'round jamming to the sounds of Little Annie Baptized in the campgrounds of Grass Valley Some years have passed, now I'm back here in the foothills of gold country Same songs being played, the singing in the shade of the pine trees A shy kid with a mandolin, I could see her on the sideline staring at me She looks just like I did the first time that I came to Grass Valley Standing 'round jamming to the sounds of Little Annie Baptized in the campgrounds of Grass Valley