| She don;t look like her mother
|
| Nothing like her father
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| How else can you explain it must be something in the water
|
| Pig tails, overalls, freckles on her face
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| Skinny as a toothpick turned side ways
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| Something happened to her when she turned sixteen
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| From a little Dixie Chicken to a Mississippi Queen
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| She spent her days a fishin with a bamboo cane
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| Every night skinny dippin in the Ponchatrain
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| IF you were living breatin, had two feet
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| You would be stalking that girl cause she looked so sweet
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| You could always find her when the night time fell
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| Drinkin of a bucket from an old stone well
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| Drinking from her hand
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| Dancing to the moon
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| She don’t look like her mother, nothing like her father
|
| How else can you explain it must be something in the water
|
| I never will forget that look in her eye
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| The night she took me down to the riverside
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| She wrapped herself around me like a honey suckle vine
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| An let me have a taste of wild cherry wine
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| You could always find her when the nighttime fell
|
| Drinking of a bucket from an old stone well
|
| Drinking from her hand
|
| Singing to the moon
|
| She dont look like her mother
|
| Nothing like her father
|
| Folks round here say it’s something in the water
|
| Two straight months without any rain
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| I never ever saw that girl again
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| But I still got her picture
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| Burning in my head
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| Dancing in a downpour
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| Soaking wet
|
| You could always find when the night time fell
|
| Drinking of a buck of an old stone well
|
| Drinking from her hand howling at the moon
|
| She dont look like her mother nothing like her father
|
| How else can you explain it must be something in the water
|
| She dont look like her mother nothing like her father
|
| Folks round here say it something in the water |