| Mama saw an alligator crawling through the backyard
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| Knockin' over garbage cans
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| Popa said, «Son, get that old shotgun
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| And we’ll put him in the frying pan»
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| After the fight when the skillet got right
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| We all had a family feast
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| I remember it well it was a night of hell
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| Catchin' that son of a beast
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| Me and brother Bob was out chasing wild hogs
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| Down in the Louisiana swamp
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| We caught him in a trap but he fought his way out
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| We ran him in an old hollow stomp
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| He was razor blade sharp, snappin' in the dark
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| Tryin’a eat us up with his teeth
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| Yeah, he was bad to the bone, we finally got him home
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| He was one mean son of a beast
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| You got to know how to slit through the fog
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| To survive in the Bayou
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| You got to be sharper than a Hawk eye
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| When the alligator makes his move
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| You got to be a hunter like an old swamp cat
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| Climbing up in a Cyprus tree
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| You got to be quicker and a whole lot slicker
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| Than a Louisiana son of a beast
|
| You got to know how to slit through the fog
|
| To survive in the Bayou
|
| You got to be sharper than a Hawk eye
|
| When the alligator makes his move
|
| You got to be a hunter like an old swamp cat
|
| Climbing up in a Cyprus tree
|
| You got to be quicker and a whole lot slicker
|
| Than a Louisiana son of a beast
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| Yeah, you got to be quicker and a whole lot slicker
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| Than a Louisiana son of a beast |