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I always wanted to write a country death song.


All the little chickens lie asleep in their beds.
Soon the hungry fox slinks down by the hedge.
He’ll be stumbling in about quarter past two.
Guilty as the fox, his story’s all through.
His debts have come due.

I’ll be in the dark like I’m sitting here now,
Quiet like the stars hanging low in the draw.
Maybe he’ll feel me and squint through the night.
Fumble on the steps, he’ll think he’s all right.
Dark in the night. He thinks it’s all right.

Over by the bridge on the dark side of town
You see a shooting star when the sun has gone down.
Rocking chair’s got me, folks say it’s not fair.
The rifle’s still smoking.
He’s lying out there.

Under the sod, lying out there.
Under the stars, lying out there.