| Now listen while I tell you bout a place I know
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| Down in Tennessee where the tall corn grows
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| Hidden from the world in a bunch of pines
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| Where the moon’s a little bashful and seldom shines
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| Civilized people live there alright but they all go native on Saturday night
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| Their music is a fiddle and a crack guitar they take the kicks from an old
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| fruit jar
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| They do the boogie to an old square dance
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| The woods’re full of couples lookin' for romance
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| Some bartender takes his brogain lights out the lights
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| Yes they all go native on Saturday night
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| When they really get together there’s a lot of fun
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| They all know the other fella packs a gun
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| Everybody does his best and acts just right
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| Cause it’s gonna be a funeral if you start a fight
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| They struggle and they shuffle till the broad daylight
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| Yes they all go native on Saturday night
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| Well now you’ve heard my story bout a place I know
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| Down in Tennessee where the tall corn grows
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| Hidden from the world in a bunch of pines
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| Where the moon’s a little bashful and seldom shines
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| Civilized people live there alright but they all go native on Saturday night |