Interpret:

Bobby Darin

Album:

Bobby Darin Born Walden Robert Cassotto

Wettin' it down, boss
Wet it down
Wipin' it off, boss
Wipe it off


Doin' ten to twenty hard
Swingin' twelve pounds in the yard
Every day
Every day


I came in with a group of twenty
There ain't left but half as many
In the clay
In the clay


Long line rider, turn away


There's a farm in Arkansas
Got some secrets in its floor
In decay
In decay


You can tell where they're at
Nothin' grows, the ground is flat
Where they lay
Where they lay


Long line rider, turn away


All the records show so clear
Not a single man was here
Anyway
Anyway


That's the tale the warden tells
As he counts his empty shells
By the day
By the day


Hey, long line rider, turn away


Someone screams investigate
Excuse me sir, it's a little late
Let us pray
Let us pray


This kinda thing can't happen here
'Specially not in an election year
Outta my way
Outta my way


Hey, long line rider, turn away


There's a funny taste in the air
Big bulldozers everywhere
Diggin' clay
Turnin' clay


And the ground coughs up some roots
Wearin' denim shirts and boots
Haul 'em away
Haul 'em away


Hey, long line rider, turn away


Well, I heard a brother moan
"Why they plowin' up my home?"
In this way
In this way


I said, "Buddy, shake your gloom
They're just here to make more room
In the clay"
U.S.A.