Come to my house an we'll pick bones Their hands outside ready with stones Come to my yard, I got whiskey an' [Incomprehensible] We'll sit on the porch as the good men stare
You ain't never spoke true, I shake an angry fist at you You are not needed here to help me feel low down I'm doin' it fine all on my own, yeah, yeah
I hear you cryin' from cradle to coffin An' for you there'll be no stoppin' See you lyin' in a pine box with bitter words