Butcher in town Deep in the south The cypress steals Cobweb moss All gray in the middle No wind no rain Keeps a good man down Sweatin' and a grinnin' Way down south You aint from here When the shit hits the fan There's more meat on(for the) a pencil From (for) the butcher in town Whiskey money Money and gold Splashin' spit Hard to swallow Ten foot tall Deep in the water Too deaf to call Damn ready to follow Hundred dollar bill's Jus' backpocket preachin' No sign to the edgewise Drinkin' good whiskey Loud and heavy Like a dogday bluejay Blacksnake lungs Gonna slide down singin' Under the thumbs of the Cannons and guns and a Swattin' flies in the Stink of an eye I dont claim a thing Not a two bit clue But somebody whispered War kills the truth Ev'ry word in a hand Gonna fly like a crow Better shut my mouth To the promised land All black and white From the wars of the souls Too much whiskey Money and gold C. 2011 gypsyeyes music, bmi Malcolm holcombe