Harvest Time

Gene Watson

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    Cool and cloudy night upon Boll Mountain Alabama
    I was stealing corn from Homer Lawson's Field
    The rattle of the cornstalks and the bark of Homer's hound dog
    Made me hug the ground and lie dead still

    Flashing through my mind was Big Homer's reputation
    A man who really didn't give a damn
    They say he shot ol' Mountain Joe for just one ear of corn
    And laughed the day they laid him in the ground

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    Well I can hear the breaking of the sticks from someone's footsteps
    But shaky legs just can't get up and run
    And as I lay there breathless the next thing I expected
    Was a blast of hell from Homer Lawson's gun

    [ steel ]
    The clouds rolled by and then I saw the shadow of a lady
    It was Homer's lovely daughter Julie Ann
    I smelled the perfume in her hair as she sat down beside me
    Whispered papa's running moonshine again

    I thank God for cloudy nights and Alabama's whiskey stills
    And harvest times in Homer Lawson's field
    I thank God for cloudy nights and Alabama's whiskey stills
    And harvest times in Homer Lawson's field

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