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Lyric provided by www.seekalyric.com |
I was born and raised, a bootlegger's boy In a Cherokee house, I plot my trade In mountain city, a happy time Just to make in money, on the moonshine So I harbored load, in an Oxford town I met me a gal and we knock around But them Oxford girls can't leave you alone I put my suit so fine and my bottle corn I'm going back to mountain city Where I can make another run Load my trunk with old shine whiskey I am afraid, bootlegger's son So I sold that corn to the circus judge On the public square, to me a ... About a man with trouble, and the ... With a drunken man, I commence to fight Yeah 4-5 rounds and then I put them away I hear the wicked jab from a razor blade Have the women scream and the bottles broke I'm ...ground, where the blood gets old I'm going back to mountain city Gonna make them revenues as rum I killed a man in a field of whiskey I am a cruel, bootlegger's son And now I roam at night, just to hide my shame I lost all my money, can't find a friend I'm gonna track the bonds to the mountain side Cause if corn don't kill me, I might never die I'm going back to mountain city Or else they'll hang me this I know I killed a man in a field of whiskey I am a cruel, bootlegger's son I'm going back to mountain city In a Cherokee house I started from Go on home broke ain't it a pity I am a cruel, bootlegger's son. |