| Well he came from Northern Ireland
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| Searching for the free man’s ground
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| And he came to bet his fortune
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| On a West Virginia plow
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| He built a house of timber
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| And raised a redhead son
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| Then they worked the land together
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| And prayed the rain would come
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| There’s a scarecrow in the garden
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| That looks like Lucifer
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| And I’ve been reading Revelations
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| With my bare feet in the dirt
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| Well the redhead’s son got older
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| And took a brown eyed wife
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| And the fields were green as dollars
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| Cause the dirt was black as night
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| I came in late September
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| The youngest one of three
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| And my sisters off and married
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| So the land was left to me
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| There’s a scarecrow in the garden
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| That looks like Lucifer
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| And I’ve been reading Revelations
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| With my bare feet in the dirt
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| I know every single fencepost
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| Every rock that goes around
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| I’ve been staring at the red oak
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| Where I know they’ll lay me down
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| The fields ain’t what they once were
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| The rains just seem to flood
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| And I’ve been thinking about that river
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| Wondering how it turned to blood
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| I’ve been sitting here all morning
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| I was sitting here all night
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| There’s a bible in my left hand
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| And a pistol in my right |