A church house, gin house A school house, outhouse On highway number nineteen The people keep the city clean They call it Nutbush Oh, Nutbush Call it Nutbush city limits
Twenty-five was the speed limit Motorcycle not allowed in it You go t'the store on Friday You go to church on Sundays They call it Nutbush, little old town Oh, Nutbush They call it Nutbush city limits
You go to the fields on week days And have a picnic on Labor Day You go to town on Saturday But go to church every Sunday They call it Nutbush Oh, Nutbush They call it Nutbush city limits
No whiskey for sale You get caught, and no bail Salt pork and molasses Is all you get in jail They call it Nutbush Oh, Nutbush Yeah, they call it Nutbush city Nutbush city limits
Lil' old town on the Tennessee, that's called Quiet little old community A one-horse town You have to watch What she's puttin' down In old Nutbush, they call it Nutbush...
Writer/s: Tina Turner
Publisher: Downtown Music Publishing, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind
Beth from Brooksville, KyBob Seger also covered this song.
Edwin from Vancouver, Bcthe original is one of her better tunes... despite of her popularity, for the most part tuner's incredible vocal abilities are under-used on formula dreck. could there be a blues album in the works?
Robert from San Francisco, CaKristi Yamaguchi and Mark Ballas used this song for their week nine jive.