| Bobby Earl awoke at dawn
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| He put his huntin' britches on
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| He could smell trouble like a dog, he was on their tail
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| He was after tax stamp dodgers
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| Moonshiners and illegal loggers
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| Pot-smokin' hippies and draft dodgers to prove
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| RC crossfire vehicle driver
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| Killed to live, a well-trained survivor
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| Momma called him Bobby but Rumbler was his name
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| Ride, ride, Rumbler, ride
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| Leave them good ol' boys behind
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| You know them woods and they got nowhere to hide
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| Ride, ride, Rumbler, ride
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| Chasin' moonshine boys through the piney woods
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| Up in Georgia searchin' for illegal goods
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| The growl of his engine was his battle-cry
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| He crashed sixteen trucks in hot pursuit
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| But in the end he got the loot
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| Ain’t a man alive that can say that he got away
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| But federal agents had enough
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| Of that rascal Rumbler and his pick up trucks
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| Kicked him out and took his badge away
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| Ride, ride, Rumbler, ride
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| Leave them good ol' boys behind
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| You know them woods and they got nowhere to hide
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| Ride, ride, Rumbler, ride
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| Poor old Rumbler was awful sad
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| About losin' all he ever had
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| Little did he know that his luck was about to change
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| See, there was a guy that he used to know
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| Runnin' with a unit called G.I. |
| Joe
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| Asked him if he’d join them on the road
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| Rumbler flashed a guilish smile
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| You could hear his laugh for fifty miles
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| Hit the clutch, and he was on his way
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| Ride, ride, Rumbler, ride
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| Leave them good ol' boys behind
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| You know them woods and they got nowhere to hide
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| Ride, ride, Rumbler, ride
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| Ride, ride, Rumbler, ride
|
| Leave them good ol' boys behind
|
| You know them woods and they got nowhere to hide
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| Ride, ride, Rumbler, ride |