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
      Anyway
      Anyway.
      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.
      U.S.A.

 

     

Lyrics from liner notes: Bobby Darin Born Walden Robert Cassotto LP

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