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Beaver Dam Road I've worked like a dog and what have I got? No corn in the crib, no beans in the pot It's hard times on the Beaver Dam Road It's hard times, poor boy. Since I didn't have no hog for to kill, I set me up a purty little still. Oh, it's hard times etc. Yonder come Ray Wilson in a Chevroiet car, A-looking for the man with the old fruit jar. He watched my house all the live-long night, He catched me just about daylight. He said, "Old boy, you're in to it now, If you ever get out it will cost you a cow" He took me by the arm, and he led me to the car, I bid farewell to the old fruit jar. He took me to Boone and put me in jail, Had nobody for to go my bail. I told that judge that my corn wasn't hoed, Still he gave me ninety days on the Beaver Dam Road. Well, my wife sent a letter, said she's faring mighty good Got a man a-hoeing 'taters and a-chopping all the wood It's a low down man riding 'round in a car, Picking on a man with the old fruit lar. All my friends, l'm a-warning wherever you are, Don't keep your liquor in an old fruit jar. From Traditional American Folk Songs, Warner & Warner Collected from Frank Proffitt, 1941 RG
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