Disc 1 | ||||||
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1. |
| 1:58 | ||||
2. |
| 2:39 | ||||
3. |
| 2:33 | ||||
The other night when I come in, so drunk I couldn't see
I hooked my toe in the old doormat and fell as flat as I could be I had me a little old bottle o' booze (and I didn't have no more) When I fell down - the cork flew outta the bottle (Plop!-glug glug glug....hic) - 'n spilled it There's a little old rat in his hidin' place, he got that whiskey scent He slipped right up 'n he got him a sssshrlp, 'n back to his hole he went Says back to his hole he went, back to his hole he went He slipped right up 'n he got him a sssshrlp (he's drinkin' it all) 'n back to his hole he went He slipped right up to my puddle o' gin and he lapped up more and more He says "Doggone, my red-eyed soul, I'm a-gonna get drunk once more" "I gonna get drunk once more, I'm a-gonna get drunk once more He says "Doggone, my red-eyed soul, I'm a-gonna get drunk once more" He washed his face with his front paws and on his hind leg he sat And he's a-gettin' pretty high when he winked one eye and he says "(hic) Hey, where's that old tom-cat?" "Now where's that old tom-cat? I said where's that old tom-cat? He's a-gettin' high when he winked one eye and he says "(hic) Hey, buddy, where's that old tom-cat? (I can lick him and his brother)" The old tom-cat come a-slippin' in, dashed over to the middle o' the floor The cat jumped over and the rat got sober and he never got drunk no more He didn' get drunk no more, no he never got drunk no more The cat jumped over and the rat got sober (poor little feller) and he never got dunk no more |
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4. |
| 3:33 | ||||
Come all you good time people
While I've got money to spend Tomorrow might be Monday And I'd neither have a dollar nor a friend Well I've got plenty of money in my pocket My good time friends are around But as soon as my pocketbook is empty Not a friend on this earth can be found I wrote my little woman a letter good people And I told her I was in jail She sent me back an answer Sayin honey I'm a coming go your bail But I'm still walking round This old jail house this evening Forty dollars won't pay my fine Corn whiskey has surrounded my body poor boy And my woman is troubling my mind Lord my daddy told me a pretty good people And my momma she told me more Said son if you don't quit your rowdy ways You'll have trouble at your door If it wasn't for heartaches and trouble good people Lord I would not be here today I will ramble this whole world over At home I cannot stay Give me corn bread On the table when I'm hungry Something tall and cool when I'm dry And a true loving woman to stand by me Sweet heaven when I die Go dig a hole in the meadow good people Make it deep in that cold cold ground Then gather around all you kind friends And see this poor rounder go down And when I'm dead and they buried me With my pale face turned to the sun Will you stand around and moan little woman And think of the way you have done |
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5. |
| 2:49 | ||||
6. |
| 3:01 | ||||
7. |
| 1:32 | ||||
8. |
| 4:28 | ||||
9. |
| 2:19 | ||||
Georgie Buck is dead
The last thing he said "Don't put no shortnin' in my bread." Georgie Buck is dead The last thing he said "Don't put no shortnin' in my bread." Down the road Down the road I see Trouble in my way Trouble in my way Trouble in my way down the line. Georgie Buck is dead Last word he said "Don't let a woman have her way. "If she have her way, She be gone all day. Don't let a woman have her way." Whoah! Down the line Down the line Down the line I see Trouble in my way Trouble in my way Trouble in my way down the line. Georgie Buck is dead The last word he said "Don't put no shortnin' in my bread." Put no shortnin in my bread... Put no shortnin' in my bread... Down the line Down the line Down the line I see Trouble come my way Trouble come my way Trouble in my way down the line. |
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10. |
| 1:18 | ||||
11. |
| 3:12 | ||||
Let it rain, let it pour,
Let it rain a whole lot more, 'Cause I got them deep river blues. Let the rain drive right on, Let the waves sweep along, 'Cause I got them deep river blues. My old gal's a good old pal, And she looks like a water fowl, When I get them deep river blues. Ain't no one to cry for me, And the fish all go out on a spree When I get them deep river blues. Give me back my old boat, I'm gonna sail if she'll float, 'Cause I got them deep river blues, I'm goin' back to Muscle Shoals, Times are better there I'm told, Cause I got them deep river blues. Let it rain, let it pour, Let it rain a whole lot more, 'Cause I got them deep river blues, Let the rain drive right on, Let the waves sweep along, 'Cause I got them deep river blues. If my boat sinks with me. I'll go down, don't you see, 'Cause I got them deep river blues, Now I'm gonna say goodbye, And if I sink, just let me die, 'Cause I got them deep river blues. Let it rain, let it pour, Let it rain a whole lot more, 'Cause I got them deep river blues, Let the rain drive right on, Let the waves sweep along, 'Cause I got them deep river blues |
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12. |
| 3:29 | ||||
13. |
| 3:15 | ||||
Hang your head, Tom Dooley,
Hang your head and cry; You killed poor Laurie Foster, And you know you're bound to die. You left her by the roadside Where you begged to be excused; You left her by the roadside, Then you hid her clothes and shoes. Hang your head, Tom Dooley, Hang your head and cry; You killed poor Laurie Foster, And you know you're bound to die. You took her on the hillside For to make her your wife; You took her on the hillside, And ther you took her life. You dug the grave four feet long And you dug it three feet deep; You rolled the cold clay over her And tromped it with your feet. Hang your head, Tom Dooley, Hang your head and cry; You killed poor Laurie Foster, And you know you're bound to die. "Trouble, oh it's trouble A-rollin' through my breast; As long as I'm a-livin', boys, They ain't a-gonna let me rest. I know they're gonna hang me, Tomorrow I'll be dead, Though I never even harmed a hair On poor little Laurie's head." Hang your head, Tom Dooley, Hang your head and cry; You killed poor Laurie Foster, And you know you're bound to die. "In this world and one more Then reckon where I'll be; If is wasn't for Sheriff Grayson, I'd be in Tennesee. You can take down my old violin And play it all you please. For at this time tomorrow, boys, Iit'll be of no use to me." Hang your head, Tom Dooley, Hang your head and cry; You killed poor Laurie Foster, And you know you're bound to die. "At this time tomorrow Where do you reckon I'll be? Away down yonder in the holler Hangin' on a white oak tree. Hang your head, Tom Dooley, Hang your head and cry; You killed poor Laurie Foster, And you know you're bound to die. |