Song parody of
A Girl in Bull Shoals
by Loose Freight
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Been working steamdrills, north of Springfield
Slinging ash in the Cadillac dust
When in the late summer haze
A memory takes shape
In the backfire of an Arkansas bus
We had our lean times, we had our mean times
But we had us a time or two, too
And you'd left an open invitation
To repave our damnation
So now I'm southbound and fixing to find you
So put 65 south in my windshield
Some Hank 1 on my radio
Cause there's a girl in Bull Shoals
With a 15 pack Stroh's
And my name on her lips whispered low
But it's still hours till, that quitting whistle
So I'm signing your name to the road
Shaped like the stars that I miss
The way they play off your hips
When you'd dance to the songs that I wrote you
So put 65 south in my windshield
Some Hank 1 on my radio
Cause there's a girl in Bull Shoals
With a 15 pack Stroh's
And my name on her lips whispered low
I'm stuck in traffic, north of Branson
In the hell of the rush hour heat
While she's floating out the dock
And she's lining up the shots
And she's staring down the clock
As I'm inching to the spot
Where she loved me
So put 65 south in my windshield
Some Hank 1 on my radio
Cause there's a girl in Bull Shoals
With a 15 pack Stroh's
And my name on her lips whispered low
Been working steamdrills, north of Springfield
Slinging ash in the Cadillac dust
When in the late summer haze
A memory takes shape
In the backfire of an Arkansas bus
We had our lean times, we had our mean times
But we had us a time or two, too
And you'd left an open invitation
To repave our damnation
So now I'm southbound and fixing to find you
So put 65 south in my windshield
Some Hank 1 on my radio
Cause there's a girl in Bull Shoals
With a 15 pack Stroh's
And my name on her lips whispered low
But it's still hours till, that quitting whistle
So I'm signing your name to the road
Shaped like the stars that I miss
The way they play off your hips
When you'd dance to the songs that I wrote you
So put 65 south in my windshield
Some Hank 1 on my radio
Cause there's a girl in Bull Shoals
With a 15 pack Stroh's
And my name on her lips whispered low
I'm stuck in traffic, north of Branson
In the hell of the rush hour heat
While she's floating out the dock
And she's lining up the shots
And she's staring down the clock
As I'm inching to the spot
Where she loved me
So put 65 south in my windshield
Some Hank 1 on my radio
Cause there's a girl in Bull Shoals
With a 15 pack Stroh's
And my name on her lips whispered low
