Lone Line Rider - Bobby Darin

Wettin' it down, boss

Wet it down

Wipin' it off, boss

Wipe it off

Doin' ten to twenty hard

Swingin' 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

Nothin' 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

Someone screams investigate

Excuse me, sir, it’s a little late

Let us pray

Let us pray

This kinda thing can’t happen here

'specially 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

Diggin' clay

Turnin' clay

And the ground coughs up some roots

Wearin' denim shirts and boots

Haul 'em away

Haul 'em away

Hey, long line rider, turn away

Well I heard a brother moan

Why they plowin' 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