I was born and raised, A bootlegger's boy, In the Cherokee Hills, I applied my trade, In Mountain City, I had me a time, Just making money, On Moonshine.
So I hauled my load, Into Knoxville Town, I met me a gal, And we knocked around, But them Knoxville girls, Can't leave me alone, In my suits so fine, And my bottle of corn.
I'm going back to Mountain City, Where I can make another run, Load my trunk with Moonshine whiskey, I am a brave Bootlegger's son.
Yeah I sold that corn, To the Circuit Judge, On the Public Square, To Mayor Trent, But I met with trouble, On the tracks one night, With a drunken man, I commenced to fight.
Yeah I fought five rounds, Then I put him away, With a wicked jab, From a razor blade, And the women screamed, As the bottles broke, On stoney ground, Where the blood did flow.
I'm going back to Mountain City, Gonna make those revenues run, I killed a man in a feud of whiskey, I am a cruel Bootlegger's son.
Now I roam the night, Just to hide my shame, I lost all my money, Can't find a friend, Gonna drag my bones, To the mountainside, If corn don't kill me, I might never die.
I'm going back to Mountain City, Or else they'll hang me this I know, I killed a man in a feud of whiskey, I am a cruel Bootlegger's boy.
I'm going back to Mountain City, To the Cherokee Hills I started from, Going home broke ain't it a pity, I am a cruel Bootlegger's son.
Writer/s: KETCH SECOR
Publisher: Downtown Music Publishing, DO WRITE MUSIC LLC
Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind
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