As I sit here tonight the jukebox playing. The tune about the wild side of life. As I listen to the words you are saying. It brings memories when I was a trusting wife.
In 1814 we took a little trip. Along with Colonel Jackson down the mighty Mississippi. We took a little bacon and we took a little beans. And we caught the bloody British in the town of New Orleans.
Some people say a man is made outta mud. A poor man's made outta muscle and blood. Muscle and blood and skin and bones. A mind that's a-weak and a back that's strong.
Well, in the North of Carolina, way back in the hills. Me and my old pappy and he had him a still. He brewed white lightnin' till the sun went down.
And then you'd fill him a jug and he'd pass it around.
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