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 near 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 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