Old Crow by Walkabouts
Now all of us knew Old Crow as the patron drinker's curse.
He paced along the barstools, beggin' quarters for his thirst.
Nobody knew where he came from,
And nobody cared to ask.
Then along came Billy Sunday, tellin' stories 'bout the past.
He said Crow had stole some gold and sunk it in the lake,
Held down by cement blocks in a broken apple crate.
Billy said it came from the murdered father of the bride.
Crow had worked their orchard land, until the night he did his crime.
Old Crow lied. X2
Night heat chokes the valley,
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