Quixanne, ah'm in its grip

Quixanne, ah'm in its grip

sinken in the mud

patron-saint of the Bog.

they cum with boots of blud

wit pitchfawk and with club

chantin out mah name

got doggies strainin onna chain

Lucy, ah'll love ya till the end!

they hunt me like a dog

down in Sw-a-a-a-amp Land! 



so cum mah executioners! cum bounty hunters!

cum mah county killers--for ah cannot run no more

ah cannot run no more

ah cannot run no more

no I can't!

Lucy, ya won't see this face agin

wheb ya caught ya swing and burn...

down in Sw-a-a-a-amp Land! 



the trees are veiled in fog



the trees are veiled in fog

like so many jilted brides

now they're all breakin down and cry

cryin tears upon mah face

cryin tears upon mah face

and they smell of gasolene

a-a-a-a-ah- scr-e-e-e-a-am

Lucy, ya made a sinner out of me

now ah'm burnin like a saint

down in Sw-a-a-a-amp Land! 



so cum mah executioners! cum mah bounty huntahs!

cum mah county killers--ya know ah cannot run no more

no ah cannot run no more.