| Now back in the country,
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| Where I was born,
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| Is on a little old hillside farm,
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| My pa raised six kids,
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| And one of 'em was me.
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| In the fall of the year,
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| When the fields got white,
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| We’d start pickin' cotton,
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| About daylight.
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| On Saturday,
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| Pa’d take it all to town.
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| And along about dark,
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| And everything was still,
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| We could tell it was pa comin' down the hill,
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| 'Cause he’d rear back and he’d sound off somethin' like this…
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| Ewww, ewwww,
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| Wooo hooo, hooo-ooo,
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| Ha ha ha ha haaaa.
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| Ewww, ewwww,
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| Wooo hooo, hooo-ooo,
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| Ha ha ha ha haaaa.
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| Now we’d go out to meet him,
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| With a lantern light,
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| 'Cause the roads got crooked,
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| On Saturday night,
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| And he’d come on down the hill,
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| And he’d stop in the yard.
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| He’d sit up there on that wagon seat,
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| And he’d say, Boys, I’m hard to beat,
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| Two hundred pounds of steel,
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| And twice as hard.
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| Southern, wild, and wooly and full of fleas,
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| And there never been cares for all his needs,
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| And he’d rear back and bellow out a course or two.
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| Ewww, ewwww,
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| Wooo hooo, hooo-ooo,
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| Ha ha ha ha haaaa.
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| Hehehehe,
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| Ewww, ewwww,
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| Wooo hooo, hooo-ooo,
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| Ha ha ha ha haaaa.
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| That’s my pa.
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| Jittered up and ready,
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| And about half wild,
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| And I can whip anybody in about half mile,
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| Of course there wasn’t anybody there,
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| Except me and little Skeet.
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| Just as tough as a hickory frier,
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| And I can dive deeper and come up drier,
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| And he did it too,
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| Right off that wagon seat.
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| Oh, it shook him up,
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| When he hit the ground.
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| Pa got up and looked around,
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| And then ran back and let us have it again…
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| Ewww, ewwww,
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| Wooo hooo, hooo-ooo,
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| Ha ha ha ha haaaa.
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| Ewww, ewwww,
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| Wooo hooo, hooo-ooo,
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| Ha ha ha ha haaaa.
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| Ewww, ewwww,
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| Wooo hooo, hooo-ooo,
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| Ha ha ha ha haaaa. |