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Thirteen grand
A year in the Meadowlands
Bored and rural poor Lord at 35 right
I'm the best seventeen year old ever
Worked these sands
I won't go back again
Quitter quitter one boy bitter rough luck
Man to man hand to hand fight forty
We're losing sand
A Wrens' ditch battle plan
Record after record black and deckered tack tack
Definition:hell and high water
Fatty come a courting Lord the money
Everyone choose sides
The whole to do of what to do for money
Poorer or not this year and hell's the difference
Let's talk plans
And luck said Double d**ned
Were you give women worth winning or what
A wasted share of shots at high tide heaven
Greener grasses fade from where you wind up
Everyone choose sides
I'm back I'm back So sing to raise the blind up
I've walked away from more than you imagine and I sleep just fine
We fought and brought up more
The shovel's high up on the ten ton line