Swampland

Quixanne, ah'm in its grip



Quixanne, ah'm in its grip



Sinken in the mud



Patron-saint of the Bog.



They cum with boots of blud



Wit pitchfawk and with club



Chantin out mah name



Got doggies strainin onna chain



Lucy, ah'll love ya till the end!



They hunt me like a dog



Down in Sw-a-a-a-amp Land!



So cum mah executioners! Cum bounty hunters!



Cum mah county killers--for ah cannot run no more



Ah cannot run no more



Ah cannot run no more



No I can't!



Lucy, ya won't see this face agin



Wheb ya caught ya swing and burn...



Down in Sw-a-a-a-amp Land!



The trees are veiled in fog



The trees are veiled in fog



Like so many jilted brides



Now they're all breakin down and cry



Cryin tears upon mah face



Cryin tears upon mah face



And they smell of gasolene



a-a-a-a-ah- scr-e-e-e-a-am



Lucy, ya made a sinner out of me



Now ah'm burnin like a saint



Down in Sw-a-a-a-amp Land!



So cum mah executioners! Cum mah bounty huntahs!



Cum mah county killers--ya know ah cannot run no more



No ah cannot run no more.