River Fool

Well, down in old Southfork Kentucky,
there lives a man everybody knows
spends his days
in a muddy haze
tangled in the cattail poles.
Working on an ancient bottle
in the shade of a yellow pine --
Just a river fool
on good ol' mountain wine.

Takes a 4-10 out for hunting.
Sometimes if he paddles far,
might even bring
his old six string --
hammer that CCR.
And if it don't feel right for picking,
he might dance in the kudzu vine.
Just a river fool
on good ol' mountain wine.

Just a river fool
on good old mountain wine,
shooting at the moon
and squalling like a mountain lion.
And you can hear him
all the way in Jackson
past the Wolf Creek line.
Just a river fool
on good ol' mountain wine.

Now he lays down every evening
kicked back on the gravel bar,
about as free
as a man can be
counting those Kentucky stars.
Dreaming all by his lonesome
content with his place in time --
Just a river fool
on good ol mountain wine.

Just a river fool
on good old mountain wine,
shooting at the moon
and squalling like a mountain lion.
And you can hear him
all the way in Jackson
past the Wolf Creek line.
Just a river fool
on good old mountain wine.
He's just a river fool
on good ol' mountain wine.



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