| Well, if you ever go back into Wooley Swamp,
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| Well, you better not go at night.
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| There’s things out there in the middle of them woods
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| That make a strong man die from fright.
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| Things that crawl and things that fly
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| And things that creep around on the ground.
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| And they say the ghost of Lucius Clay gets up and he walks around.
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| But I couldn’t believe it.
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| I just had to find out for myself.
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| And I couldn’t conceive it
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| 'Cause I never would have listened to nobody else.
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| And I couldn’t believe it.
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| I just had to find out for myself
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| There’s somethings in this world you just
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| can’t explain.
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| Spoken:
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| The old man lived in the Wooley Swamp way back in Booger Woods.
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| He never did do a lot of harm in the world,
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| But he never did do no good
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| People didn’t think too much of him
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| They all thought he acted funny
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| The old man didn’t care about people anyway
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| All he cared about was his money.
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| He’d stuff it all down in mason jars
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| And he’d bury it all around
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| And on certain nights
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| If the moon was right
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| H e’d dig it up out of the ground.
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| He’d pour it all out on the floor of his shack
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| And run his fingers through it.
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| Yeah, Lucius Clay was a greedy old man
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| And that’s all that there was to it.
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| Cable boys was white trash
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| They lived over on Carver’s Creek.
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| They were mean as a snake
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| And sneaky as a cat
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| And belligerent when they’d speak.
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| One night the oldest brother said,
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| «Y'all meet me at the Wooley Swamp later
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| We’ll take old Lucius’s money
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| and we’ll feed him to the alligators.»
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| They found the old man out in the back
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| With a shovel in his hand,
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| Thirteen rusty mason jars
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| was just dug up out of the sand.
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| And they all went crazy
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| And they beat the old man,
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| And they picked him up off of the ground.
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| Threw him in the swamp
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| And stood there and laughed
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| As the black water sucked him down.
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| Then they turned around
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| And went back to the shack
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| And picked up the money and ran.
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| They hadn’t gone nowhere
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| When they realized
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| They were running in quicksand.
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| And they struggled and they screamed
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| But they couldn’t get away
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| And just before they went under
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| They could hear that old man laughing
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| In a voice as loud as thunder.
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| And that’s been fifty years ago
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| And you can go by there yet.
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| There’s a spot in the yard
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| In the back of that shack
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| Where the ground is always wet.
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| And on summer nights
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| If the moon is right
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| Down by the that dark footpath,
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| You can hear three young men screaming.
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| You can hear one old man laugh. |