Music Service


Lyrics by: Bobby Darin
# Debut Chart
79 Feb '69 Hot 100


Wetting it down, boss Wet it down Wiping it off, boss Wipe it off

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Doing ten to twenty hard Swinging twelve pounds in the yard Every day, every day I came in with a group of twenty There ain't left but half as many In the clay, in the clay Long line rider, turn away There's a farm in Arkansas Got some secrets in its floor In decay, in decay You can tell where they're at Nothing grows, the ground is flat Where they lay, where they lay Long line rider, turn away All the records show so clear Not a single man was here Anyway, anyway That's the tale the warden tells As he counts his empty shells By the day, by the day Hey, long line rider, turn away Somone screams investigate Excuse me, sir, it's a little late Let us pray. let us pray This kinda thing can't happen here Especially not in an election year Outta my way, outta my way Hey, long line rider, turn away There's a funny taste in the air Big bulldozers everywhere Digging clay, turning clay And the ground coughs up some roots Wearing denim shirts and boots Haul em away, haul em away Hey, long line rider, turn away Well, I heard a brother moan Why they plowing up my home In this way, in this way I said, buddy, shake your gloom They're just here to make more room In the clay, USA


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