It's a nickel for the fiddler
It's a nickel for his tune
It's a nickel for the tambourine kind of afternoon
And it's a high holiday on the twenty-first of June
And it's country music in the park
And everybody's ruined
It's fountains full of dogs and kids
And it's streaky apple pie
It's the ones who came to play
And the ones just passin' by
It's coats of many colors
And it almost makes me cry
It's ice cream on a stick
And it's somethin' you can't buy
It's a fiddler from Kentucky
Who swears he's eighty three
And he's fiddled every contest
From here to Cripple Creek
It's old ones and it's young ones
And it's plain they have agreed
And it's country music in the park
As far as they can see