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Hardtack

Hardtack and whiskey,
gone whistlin Dixie,
on Cold River Run Way.
Skatland fiddlin,
spindle cut kindlin,
flaylin 'n' a bailin hay.
High hats and river rats,
mixIN it up like stray cats.
FoldIN their cards,
or pickin em up and play.
Misters been mistressin, everybody's whisperin,
how the rich rout bold
knights by seizing their days.
Sippin on bourbon,
it's gone high-rise suburban,
on old riverfront clay.
When I look into the sky,
still,no message comes back why?
So brother, keep your change,
I'm goin back to the range,
with my hardtack 'n' whiskey,
long gone,whistlin Dixie,
all dipsey doo dog day.





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Hardtack


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