Please, read this with the thickest southern accent you've ever heard. It's my language. It's my home...
Hee Haws on the TV Chicken's fryin' in cast iron skillets Taters and maters scent mama's clothes no AC Papaws in the bacca field Granny's sippin' on sweet tea The law stopped comin' here they say, Back in '23 The fruit's ripe for pickin daddy did that last week He said the Apple brandy Tasted perfect, bitter sweet The moonshine makers meet When the crickets sing at night they pass around mason jars 'neath the moon and southern stars The wine stays burried till fall muskadine, other than strawberry the very best kind The yanks buy it up Its funny to watch 'em they can't handle their stuff The Demory Mart stays busy oh Lord it's so much fun! When the moonshiners play pool, till the rising of the sun Momma don't like it, Lord she gets so mad! But she puts my church shoes on me and I know she still loves dad But now the still's turned green as copper always does There are no moonshiners left Time has passed, just 'cause Papaw's gone the fields have grown up there are no moonshiners left it's all store bought, mason jars have turned to cups Demory Mart is Yankee owned the church has indoor plumbing But late at night, I hear the banjo's and the stills, copper humming....