| Well I’ve been down on the row and I’m livin' so low
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| (That) I’d sell you my britches fo' a nickel
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| I done spent all my bread just to screw up my head
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| An' that ol' reaper is comin' with his sickle
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| I’d get down in the mud (just) for one little shot
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| Trade you for a bottle everything I got
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| It’s the devil’s own so brother take heed
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| Don’t go plantin' that ol' Whiskey Seed
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| I don’t know where I been ain’t no where or no when
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| And my liver’s so bad I’m turnin' yellow
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| Occupation’s a bum an' (a) zero’s my sum
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| Got the D.T.'s so bad I look like Jell-O
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| Well the gutter’s my bed, the paper’s my sheet
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| You can find me lyin' out in the street
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| It’s the devil’s own so brother take heed
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| Don’t go plantin' that ol' Whiskey Seed
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| (Well) Now I’m feelin' so low I got nowhere to go
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| If I found a big hole I think I’d crawl in
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| And I wisht' I could hide 'cause it feels like I died
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| And I hear that ol' bottle still a-callin'
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| But I’m tryin' to find a way to get out
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| Sometimes makes me want to jump and shout
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| It’s the devil’s own so brother take heed
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| Don’t go plantin' that ol' Whiskey Seed |