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When I’m done with this life I’m going to comeback as a Hillbilly in 1942. It might go I little somethin' like this...
I'll live on the side of a green Tennessee hill in a shack made of old rusted tin, wood and as much character as my big floppy brown hat. I'll spend the nights with no moonlight shining off the cool pure dew upon my sly rough face, stealing the earth grown ingreedince for my clear good shine. I'll sell that shine to the happy hard luck folks all around these parts. I'll have a long beard. For each inch of that beard tells the tale of another year. Then when the days of holding up the Hillbilly nobility grow long and tired, I'll hang up my gin jars (dry now, but not forgotten) and lay down my heavy head under my hole filled hat. But just before a pass on to that green rolling hill were the whisky flows a steady and brown like the mighty Mississippi and the women can't a’ follow, I’ll leave these words on the side of my still...
Cigarettes, whiskey and wild women
They'll drive you crazy, they'll drive you insane;
Once I was happy and had a good wife
I had enough money to last me for life
Then I met with a gal and we went on a spree
She taught me smokin' and drinkin' whiskee
Take warning dear friend, take warning dear brother
A fire's on one end, a fools on the t'other.
And now good people, I'm broken with faith
The lines on my face make a well written page
I'm weavin' this story -- how sadly but true
On women and whiskey and what they can do
Wild the cross at the head of my grave
For women and whiskey here lies a poor slave.
Take warnin' poor stranger, take warnin' dear friend
in wide clear letters this tale of my end.