| Well, I wrote a story
|
| Got put in the paper
|
| About all the bridges I’ve burned
|
| For the last part I lied
|
| But you know it don’t matter
|
| 'Cause they’ll print anything that’s a cert
|
| And if I was a shadow
|
| On a long, lonely gallows
|
| They’d hang me and pull off my lip
|
| 'Cause making up stories was all I could do
|
| And you know that the truth ain’t worth shit
|
| Now, so much has happened
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| Since I ran with the Union
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| And the ink never dried in the grass
|
| Well, the numbers got plenty
|
| I assure you that many
|
| Had been added by me for a gas
|
| And if I was a shadow
|
| On a long, lonely gallows
|
| They’d hang me and cut off my lip
|
| 'Cause making up stories was all I could do
|
| And you know that the truth ain’t worth shit
|
| My home was the scene of
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| A quarrelsome Mary
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| Who flared up whenever I spoke
|
| So I’d write her some letters
|
| Washed down in adventure
|
| And my bed would be lonely no more
|
| And if I was a shadow
|
| On a long, lonely gallows
|
| They’d hang me and cut off my lip
|
| 'Cause making up stories was all I could do
|
| And you know that the truth ain’t worth shit
|
| And if I was a shadow
|
| On a long, lonely gallows
|
| They’d hang me and cut off my lip
|
| 'Cause making up stories was all I could do
|
| And you know that the truth ain’t worth shit
|
| And if I was a shadow
|
| On a long, lonely gallows
|
| They’d hang me and cut off my lip
|
| 'Cause making up stories was all I could do
|
| And you know that the truth ain’t worth shit |