I don't believe in frettin' and grievin';
Why mess around with strife?
I never was cut out to step and strut out.
Give me the simple life.
Some find it pleasant dining on pheasant.
Those things roll off my knife;
Just serve me tomatoes; and mashed potatoes;
Give me the simple life.
A cottage small is all I'm after,
Not one that's spacious and wide.
A house that rings with joy and laughter
And the ones you love inside.
Some like the high road, I like the low road,
Free from the care and strife.
Sounds corny and seedy, but yes, indeedy;
Give me the simple life.
I wish I wrote this song. I love it so much. Especially if Ella Fitzgerald is singing it. I feel like a Rich woman when Benson and I snack on strawberries from our front bed in between weeding. I feel content when summer dinners consist of fresh corn on the cob, fresh green beans, fresh peaches, homemade bread with mayo and garden tomatoes. Richie and I could eat tomato sandwiches for every meal and be ok with that. In fact I'm pretty sure that if Richie was on death row, he would request a garden tomato sandwich for his last meal. I feel at peace when the kids want a snack, so they go pick raspberries and blackberries in the backyard. I feel lucky when I find 3 warm, brown eggs in the hens favorite laying spot. I feel completely at peace when I hang clothes up on the line and listen to the wind in the trees. Give me the simple life.
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