| As I walked out one mornin' in the Alabama chill
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| I saw some old friends hangin' from a tree on Hobie’s Hill
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| By their tattered legs they dangled drippin' down along the spine
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| It was old George Gudger’s overalls a-drying on the line
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| George Gudger, he’s an honest cuss, and he likes to work his land
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| I’d long admired them overalls that I held there in my hand
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| My brand new pair was stiffer than a starched-up Sunday suit
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| But his could walk 'round by themselves and plow the corn to boot!
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| Now the knees looked almost bloody from the red Hale County clay
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| George Gudger’s debts and prayers had kept him kneelin' down all day
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| Old George owes me money, but I owe him my respect
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| And if these overalls will fit me, Boy, I’ll forget about his debt
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| I stepped in to them big old legs like fallin' down a mine
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| Then I heard a ragged chuckle, and there stood old George behind
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| A smile of old tobacco juice was tricklin' down his chin
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| He said, «You might as well try walkin' round in someone else’s skin. |
| . |
| .»
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| «But son, if you like them old friends of mine so much, I guess I can let 'em go
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| Had to lean 'em to me wife last year, while she’s carry’n Little Joe
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| She bent down in the fields one day And split that tired old seam
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| And now she gone and beat 'em half to death on that rock down by the stream'
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| The knees looked almost bloody from the red Hale County clay
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| George Gudger’s debts and prayers they kept him kneelin' down all day
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| You know I walked just like a drunken man, they almost made me fall
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| They kept tryin' to steer me back towards Gudger’s place, Cuz they’re still Old
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| George’s overalls!
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| At home before the mirror I seemed to be a different man
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| In my mind they kept a seein' His farmed out patch of land
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| So I took him back his overalls and a week supply of food
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| I also left my brand new pair and sneaked home in the nude |