Untitled - The Long Winters

There’s a shanty in a town on a little plot of ground

Where the green grass grows all around, all around

And the roof’s so torn so badly worn

It touches to the ground

Just a tumbledown shack that sits way back

About twenty-five feet from the railroad track;

Hanging on the line most all the time

Keeps calling me back to my little grass shack

I’d be just as sassy as Haile Selassie

If I were a king it wouldn’t mean a thing

Put my boots on tall, read the writing on the wall

And it wouldn’t mean a thing, not a doggone thing

There’s a queen waiting there in a rocking chair

Just blowing her stack on Raineer beer

And I’m looking all around and I’m trucking on down

'cause I gotta get back to my shanty town

I’d be just as sassy as Haile Selassie

If I were a king it wouldn’t mean a thing

Put my boots on tall, read the writing on the wall

And it wouldn’t mean a thing, not a doggone thing

There’s a queen waiting there in a rocking chair

Just blowing her stack on Raineer beer

And I’m looking all around and I’m trucking on down

'cause I gotta get back to my shanty town

I gotta get back to my shanty town