| Momma raised me on riddles and trances,
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| fat-back, channel cat, lily-white lies,
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| all wrapped up in a jim-crack fancy.
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| I never met Poppa,
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| I never asked why
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| People said Poppa wasn’t no-account anyway,
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| people said Poppa was a rollin' stone.
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| I turned twenty on the Wakama thruway,
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| headed upriver in the dark alone.
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| CHORUS I been sleepin' with a stranger in a no-name town,
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| Thanksgiving dinner at the Top Hat Lounge,
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| Christmas Eve at the Fantasy Tan,
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| Lord have mercy on the Crocodile Man
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| I hooked up with a carnie,
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| a little out of Memphis,
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| slavin' in a side-show,
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| pennies in a jar,
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| beetle-eyed jokers, hick-town princes,
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| rhinestone rubies and rubber cigars.
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| I wrassled me a gator up in Omaha city,
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| done me another down in New Orleans,
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| tangled with the barker,
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| ran off with the kitty,
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| crawled the Mississippi and I got away clean
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| Underneath the levee in a cattail thicket,
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| down in the shadows of a shady grove,
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| there’s a thatch roof risin' from a poke-fence picket,
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| white smoke billows from a coal-black stove.
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| Inside the house is the hall of mirrors,
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| inside the mirror is the temple of sin,
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| inside the temple is the face of Momma,
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| and Momma, she knows where I been.
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| My Momma knows exactly where this bad boy been.
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| CHORUS |