| The ladies of the garden club say
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| His home is just a disgrace to the town
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| If the Mayor wants re-elected
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| He’d better pass some laws and tear it down
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| They wanna cover it with flowers
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| Maybe even plant some dogwood trees
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| I guess that they’ve forgotten
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| When we were kids what that place used to be
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| I know it’s just a shanty now
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| But Lord, that place was built with human tears
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| For it’s the home of Uncle Lem
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| Who was born and raised and lived there ninety years
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| There’s not a boy in this whole town
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| Hasn’t stopped for water at his well
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| Or sat on his porch in the evenin'
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| And listened to the stories that he’d tell
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| Oh, his hair was the color of a cotton field
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| And his skin was old and brown
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| And he was born in that rundown shack
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| Before there was a town
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| He bought that shack and a piece of earth
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| For the highest price to pay
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| His mom was bought and sold there
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| Uncle Lem was born’d a slave
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| The mayor and some ladies of the garden club
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| Went out to tell Uncle Lem that he’d have to find a new place to live
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| Well, they found him there in that old broken down rockin' chair
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| And on an old paper bag they found his will
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| «Nor I wanna leave my old shotgun to the fine mayor of this town
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| For I remember when he a little fella, he used to follow me around
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| I wish I had more to give to my friends that I love
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| But all I’ve got is this old shack and a piece of earth
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| And I want it to go to the ladies of the garden club»
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| Oh, his hair was the color of a cotton field
|
| And his skin was old and brown
|
| And he was born in that rundown shack
|
| Before there was a town
|
| He bought that shack and a piece of earth
|
| For the highest price to pay
|
| His mom was bought and sold there
|
| Uncle Lem was born’d a slave |