| I don’t want to know if this novely
|
| This much of honey, doesn’t go with me
|
| I walk alone don’t want nobody
|
| And that’s the way it’s going to be
|
| I was born on a cold December
|
| I was brought up in a shack
|
| I’ve been mean, mean Johnson,
|
| It’s been down a while
|
| Now there ain’t no turning back
|
| No, no now there ain’t no turning back
|
| I dig the sound of a tranch guitar
|
| You find me where these swindle places are
|
| For all the other cats places are
|
| Are barely near and yet too far
|
| I was born on a cold December
|
| I was brought up in a shack
|
| I’ve been mean, mean Johnson,
|
| It’s been down a while
|
| Now there ain’t no turning back
|
| No, no now there ain’t no turning back
|
| Just watch me shimmy cause I’m the lead
|
| The boys all heard it but the fun is sweet
|
| This is the month that I stump my feet
|
| Outside on the street again
|
| I was born on a cold December
|
| I was brought up in a shack
|
| I’ve been mean, mean Johnson,
|
| It’s been down a while
|
| Now there ain’t no turning back
|
| No, no now there ain’t no turning back
|
| I don’t want to know if this novely
|
| This much of honey, doesn’t go with me
|
| I walk alone don’t want nobody
|
| And that’s the way it’s going to be
|
| I was born on a cold December
|
| I was brought up in a shack
|
| I’ve been mean, mean Johnson,
|
| It’s been down a while
|
| Now there ain’t no turning back
|
| No, no now there ain’t no turning back |