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