If you think the bottom of a 40-rod jug is what’s gonna hurt your head,
you’re just waiting till you get back home, cause you ain’t seen nothing yet.
There’s a whole lot of numbers in Rockcastle County,
and every one of them’s been crunk.
I know **** well what you’re doing,
just don’t know you’re getting it done.
Saint won’t you hear my prayer?
God where.
Saint nothing lost yet found.
If you just and get home I’m gonna out.
I’m gonna out.
While you’re swarming and on, a 10-point buck,
I’m no madder an oak fished and up.
It’s probably just Jimmy, or Clyde, dare not be hurt.
You’ll be banging your back in that jail if I get ahold of you first.
Saint won’t you hear my prayer?
God where.
Saint nothing lost yet found.
If you just and get home I’m gonna out.
I’m gonna out.
I’m gonna out.
I’m gonna out.
Saint won’t you hear my prayer?
God where.
Saint nothing lost yet found.
If you just and get home I’m gonna out.
I’m gonna out.
Saint Anthony.
