meetings a pleasure

For four thousand years it fell into the abyss

He had not yet been able to capture a crown, Nor once lift his front disproportionate. It sank in the dark and mist, frightened, Alone, and behind him, in eternal night,

Boat’s up the river, and it won’t it come. And now I beg for my soul Lord, cause I’m water bound.

If that river was whisky, and I was a dude, Lord I’d dive to the bottom, and I’d never come up.

I’ve been a moonshiner for seventeen long years, I’ve spent all my money on whiskey and beer, I go to some hollow and set up my still, And if whiskey don’t kill me, Then I don’t know what will.

Out on Old Smokey All covered in Snow I lost my true lover by courtin’ too slow This courtin’ is pleasure and parting is grief one false hearted true lover is worse than a thief.

They’ll hug you,