1. Well, walking liquor has done me wrong. I can't sleep night or day.
A terrible feelin' that comes along when the kick it begins to get away.
...poison and a mixture or two. They call it sugar of lead.
If you drink bootleg 'shine, you'll sure have an achin' head.
2. Did you ever wake up on a Sunday morn with snakes all around your bed?
I know you have. I have, too. I know I'd rather be dead.
The preacher comes around and gives advice, and then you have to stall.
But if he gets to the bottle first, you know, he'll never leave you none at all.
3. I tell you, brother, and I won't lie, what's the matter in this land:
They drink it wet and vote it dry and hide it if they can.
They'll pitch a party and they'll all get drunk, and call it society,
But if they catch you with a pint, good mornin' penitentiary.
4. Well, prohibition* has killed more folks than Sherman ever seen.
If they don't get whiskey, they'll take to dope, cocaine, and morphine.
This ol' country it sure ain't dry, and dry will never be seen.
Prohibition* is just a scheme, a fine money-makin' machine.
5. Carbolic acid and creosote ought to kill any man.
Some get paralyzed, some get well, some hit the Golden Land.
The undertaker has got to live. Beat him if you can.
Prohibition*, say it again, is a money-makin' fine machine.
A terrible feelin' that comes along when the kick it begins to get away.
...poison and a mixture or two. They call it sugar of lead.
If you drink bootleg 'shine, you'll sure have an achin' head.
2. Did you ever wake up on a Sunday morn with snakes all around your bed?
I know you have. I have, too. I know I'd rather be dead.
The preacher comes around and gives advice, and then you have to stall.
But if he gets to the bottle first, you know, he'll never leave you none at all.
3. I tell you, brother, and I won't lie, what's the matter in this land:
They drink it wet and vote it dry and hide it if they can.
They'll pitch a party and they'll all get drunk, and call it society,
But if they catch you with a pint, good mornin' penitentiary.
4. Well, prohibition* has killed more folks than Sherman ever seen.
If they don't get whiskey, they'll take to dope, cocaine, and morphine.
This ol' country it sure ain't dry, and dry will never be seen.
Prohibition* is just a scheme, a fine money-makin' machine.
5. Carbolic acid and creosote ought to kill any man.
Some get paralyzed, some get well, some hit the Golden Land.
The undertaker has got to live. Beat him if you can.
Prohibition*, say it again, is a money-makin' fine machine.