| Hung my cotton dress on rusted wire
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| Up there on Pilahatchee Bridge
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| Just a crazy roughneck’s daughter
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| Jumped head-first into the water
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| Baptized away my sins
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| Hitched to town with Bobby Jo and Tommy
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| Couple of lookers, new best friends
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| We slipped in the back of Sunday service
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| Know them church ladies, they heard us
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| Bum smoke money from the offering
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| Mama said, «Idle hands are Devil’s handiwork
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| Oh, the trouble you’ll get into
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| You got nothin' better to do, got nothin' better to do
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| You got nothin' better to do, got nothin' better to do»
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| Yeah!
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| Sign read 'Bait, Chips, Beer and Ammunition'
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| That Slim-Jim bag boy hadn’t a prayer
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| Well, I hiked my skirt and did the talkin'
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| While them boys were busy walkin'
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| Case of .5 out the back door
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| Hid deep in the Mississippi backwoods
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| We danced and played around 'til dark
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| Well, I had them wrestlin' for my first kiss
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| Turned into a fight and they missed
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| Me speedin' off in Tommy’s car
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| Mama said, «Idle hands are Devil’s handiwork
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| Oh, the trouble you’ll get into
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| You got nothin' better to do, got nothin' better to do
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| You got nothin' better to do, got nothin' better to do»
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| Yeah!
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| Nobody hurt, nobody harmed
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| Nobody’s business but my own
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| Mama said, «Idle hands are Devil’s handiwork
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| Oh, the trouble you’ll get into»
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| You got nothin' better to do, got nothin' better to do
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| You got nothin' better to do, got nothin' better to do
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| You got nothin' better to do, got nothin' better to do
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| You got nothin' better to do, got nothin' better to do
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| You got nothin' better to do, babe, got nothin' better to do
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| You got nothin' better to do, babe, you got nothin' better to do, no no
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| Got nothin' better to do, babe, you got nothin' better to do, no no
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| Got nothin' better to do, babe, you got nothin' better to do, no no! |