| Way out in the island with the coconut tree
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| With the pearly shells and the tropical breeze
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| There’s a hillbilly girl from Tennessee
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| My hillbilly hula gal
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| She’s had enough of the hills and me
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| So she’s taken to the lessons in Waikiki
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| I guess she’s right where she wants to be
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| My hillbilly hula gal
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| She dances with wahini’s in the islands now
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| She’s trying to do the hula but she don’t know how
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| She’s got the poniola’s in her own corral
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| She feeds them grits and gravy at the old luau
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| The Blue Grass hills and the Mountain Dew
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| Wait till she leaves Honolulu
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| She better come home like she’s suppose to do
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| My hillbilly hula gal
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| Now she looks twice as good in a little grass skirt
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| Than overalls and a tore up shirt
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| But corn don’t grow in lava dirt
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| My hillbilly hula gal
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| There’s smiles on the faces if the island boys
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| Cause her southern drawl gives a big enjoy
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| She can’t churn butter when she’s dipping that poi
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| My hillbilly hula gal
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| Now she never used to give a hoot for coconuts or taro root
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| She’s a country gal living in the islands now
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| She’s trying to get the hula girl to show her how
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| When she gets through with this fantasy
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| Just come on back to Tennessee
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| Back with me where she’s suppose to be
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| My hillbilly hula gal, my hillbilly hula gal |