Little Amsterdam in a southern town hominy get on the plate girl Momma keep your head down Momma it wasn’t my bullet
don’t take me back to the Range I’m just comin out of the cell in my brain don’t take me back to the Range cause girl you got to know these days which side your on
Momma got shit she loved a brown man then she built a bridge in the Sheriff’s bed she’d do anyhting to save her man you see her olives are cold pressed and her best friend is a sun dress but Momma it wasn’t my bullet
round and round and round I go round and round this time for keeps Father only you can save my soul and playing that organ must count for something girl you got to know these days which side your on Little Amsterdam shut down today they buried her with a butter bean bouquet and the Sheriff now can’t ride away like he said into the sunset and I want say that he shouldna paid but Momma it wasn’t my bullet