Bugle John

Hey there Mr. ticket taker, won't you lay your gun
I'm just a small town boy
Much like anyone
I ain't no troublemaker, won't you cut some slack
Gotta get out, gotta go
You know the only way is through these tracks

Come on little two time baby, I did you no harm
Loved you from a mile, I took you to my daddy's farm
Still you left me with the bottle, left me high and dry
If you leave me for another
I'd rather watch you turning blue and die

Hey now judge, your honor, sir
I swear I didn't know
Think somebody's drugged my whiskey back a while ago
I can't wear this ball and chain
I can't bend these bars
Better let me outta here before I make somebody here see stars

Wait a minute, Hangman, mister
Hold on with that noose
Got myself a rich old daddy
Turn the cannons loose
See you all in hell, I swear that judgment day will come
Still I perish with the sound
Of screeching bugles and the roll of drums



Credits
Writer(s): Tal Cohen Shalev
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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