This is Musical Miles.

Son of a widowed mother Not a stitch of store-bought clothes And trying to feed a family of thirteen years old Single bottomed plow and cranky mules From sunup to sundown I stepped across all I'd done And I laid the plow lines down A pine box across two chairs was all that I had for a faded photograph of my dad.

They said the lightning took him not long after I came to be.

And that made me the youngest of the poor family.

At 21, I joined the army, adventure in my mind, breaking mules for the cavalry, the last of my kind.

I fought a thousand battles, but I never saw the war.

A wayward woman waiting for me, with my best friend at my door.

How did you really get started?