Bobby Darin

Bobby Darin - Long Line Rider

Wettin' it down, boss

Wet it down

Wipin' it off, boss

Wipe it off.

Doin' ten to twenty hard

Swingin' twelve pounds in the yard

Every day

Every day.

I came in with a group of twenty

There ain't left but half as many

In the clay

In the clay.

Long line rider, turn away.

There's a farm in Arkansas

Got some secrets in its floor

In decay

In decay.

You can tell where they're at

Nothin' grows, the ground is flat

Where they lay

Where they lay.

Long line rider, turn away.

All the records show so clear

Not a single man was here



That's the tale the warden tells

As he counts his empty shells

By the day

By the day.

Hey, long line rider, turn away.

Somone screams investigate

'scuse me sir it's a little late

Let us pray

Let us pray.

This kinda thing can't happen here

'specially not in an election year

Outta my way

Outta my way.

Hey, long line rider, turn away.

There's a funny taste in the air

Big bulldozers everywhere

Diggin' clay

Turnin' clay.

And the ground coughs up some roots

Wearin' denim shirts and boots

Haul 'em away

Haul 'em away.

Hey, long line rider, turn away.

Well I heard a brother moan

Why they plowin' up my home

In this way

In this way.

I said, buddy, shake your gloom

They're just here to make more room

In the clay.


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