| I hear cracked cymbals and the Queens of Africa
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| Ashes to ashes and dust to dust
|
| The club burned down to the concrete floor
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| Old jukebox won’t play no more
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| Cracked cymbals and the Queen to Africa
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| With the moonlight shining through the trees
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| Honeysuckle on a southern breeze
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| I miss the moonshine
|
| And the old times sitting in with the house band
|
| And the bootleggers of the bottomland
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| Old Gabe used to blow up and down the picnic ground
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| With Bobby Ray Watson and young Kenny Brown
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| But people ask what it was like
|
| Out in the country on a Sunday night
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| Heaps see, but mighty few know how old Gabe used to blow
|
| And the moonlight shining through the trees
|
| Honeysuckle on a southern breeze
|
| I miss the moonshine
|
| And the old times sitting in with the house band
|
| And the bootleggers of the bottomland
|
| I miss the moonshine
|
| And the old times sitting in with the house band
|
| And the bootleggers of the bottom
|
| Let’s do it like we did before
|
| In Marshall County down Highway 4
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| Gangsta walking cross the juke joint floor
|
| Butterfly bug drop a drunk outdoors
|
| And old folks know what is was like
|
| Out in the country on a Sunday night
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| So pour some on the floor
|
| And do it like we did before
|
| And the moonlight shining through the trees
|
| Honeysuckle on a southern breeze
|
| I miss the moonshine
|
| And the old times sitting in with the house band
|
| And the bootleggers of the bottomland
|
| I miss the moonshine
|
| And the old times sitting in with the house band
|
| And the bootleggers of the bottomland
|
| Mississippi moonshine
|
| I miss the moonshine and the bootleggers of the bottomland |