Lyrics:
No, I wrote that in 1975
In Binghamton, New York
Ragged Old Flag
I walked through a county courthouse square
And on a park bench an old
Man was
millionaire.
Some have made their way by bus, others they have flown.
Across the big old ocean just to kiss the Blarney Stone.
Oh lie down on your back and kiss
knocked on my door
Told me they had locked up my kids
I lay down on the floor
Crying out my bits
My children were just 4 years old
And the County hurt them
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
Dey go Richland County
Damn I can’t let em catch me
For what I got in the coupe the gon rest me
They can keep ridin close but they
Having you right here by my side
On this drive down an
Old two lane road doesn't matter where we go
As long as you're next to me
Way out on the county line
mighty fine
Should’ve bought her rings
And should've bought her wine
But I went down the county line
Did the same old sin about a hundred times
Got to do
Thank you
DEXTER:
Drink up, chap.
Ah, please don't eat that glass, my friend.
Have you heard about dear Blanche?
Got run down by an avalanche.
MIKE:
No!
Already on me
Shoutout to Fregley
Man, you so deadly
But that’s not who this about,
Songs about a real special guy
Who goes by the name Bob Duncan
(Hyah)
like Cowabunga
Hope you get offended by the way I'm stunting
Won't dive in if I ain't got no rubber
We came from the bottom of the rubble
If they
out
Bullet holes in a highway sign
Down by the quarry at the county line
Cruisin' the strip just one more round
Pickin' up the girls and makin' out
ourselves
We can't babble no more than we can bob our head offbeat
Nimrod by the time we forty cause we can't get off meat
While we ask no reason for
ourselves
We can't babble no more than we can bob our head offbeat
Nimrod by the time we forty cause we can't get off meat
While we ask no reason for
Parody of Sold: The Grundy County Auction by John Michael Montgomery (R. Fagan/R.Royer), Of Music (ASCAP)/RobbRoy West Music (BMI)
New Lyrics
maker
All day singin', supper on the ground
Old folks and youngins, gather 'round
Every kind of fiddle you ever did see
Come along merry and sit by me
flapped long ears and didn't brush up by day
Got his long ears whittled and his old hid scorched in a most artistic way
Now one fine day old Sandy Bob he
many times my memories are worn
Sometimes we’d travel right down the Green River/ To an abandoned old prison down by Airdrie Hill/ To where the air
really tugs on your heartstrings
Oh, I wish that I could, but not in this life
Will I ever forget County Road 3105
She's like Texas by J.A.B
She wasn't
that kept them alive
Wasn't controlled by a banker
On Wall Street trying to make a dime
They kept the county stoned as hell
In 77' ooh that smell
Came from rapping in the bathroom
Class clown pre-K to high school
I done came along way
County to the state tray
It feel like all yesterday
But it's
mighty fine
Should’ve bought her rings
And should've bought her wine
But I went down the county line
Did the same old sin about a hundred times
Got to do
of the most famous jazz pianists in the world"
I said, "I think I may have heard of him
Or maybe I'm getting him confused
With the chain food restaurant Bob
Rag top slowin' down, time to stop for gas
Beep my horn for a hoochie with a proper ass, uh
It ain't easy, that's my motto
Drinkin' Tanqueray
me along to the old County Clare
It went Meet me tonight by moonlight
Under that old Clare moon
I chanted in Doolin and I sang at Fanore
I went
I walked through a county courthouse square
On a park bench an old man was sitting there
I said, your old courthouse is kinda run down
He said,
Discuss these old county down by bob crosby Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In