"Barefoot John"—Crooked Timber

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Barefoot John

(Music and lyrics by Scott Ryan)

          Barefoot John, where's your shoes at?
          Better go get 'em an'-a put 'em on.
          No sir, no, I dare not do that—
          Then I wouldn't be Barefoot John.

Late last night near Possum Hollow
Down the road behind the creek,
I was drinking bourbon whiskey—
Drank and drank till I was sick.

So I lay on down till the morning found me;
Mud and moss were all around me.
I staggered home all alone
While the folks stood round and said . . .

          Barefoot John, where's your shoes at?
          Better go get 'em an'-a put 'em on.
          No sir, no, I dare not do that—
          Then I wouldn't be Barefoot John.

Late last night near the crooked timbers
Past the orchard down the hill,
I was drinking bourbon whiskey—
Drank and drank till I was ill.

So I lay on down till morning found me;
Broken glass was all around me.
I staggered home all alone
While the folks stood round and said . . .

          Barefoot John, where's your shoes at?
          Better go get 'em an'-a put 'em on.
          No sir, no, I dare not do that—
          Then I wouldn't be Barefoot John.

Late last night near Widow Jackson's
Run-down barn with the cats inside,
I was drinking bourbon whiskey—
Drank so much I damn near died.

So I lay on down till morning found me;
Cats and hay were all around me.
I staggered home all alone
While the folks stood round and said . . .

          Barefoot John, where's your shoes at?
          Better go get 'em an'-a put 'em on.
          No sir, no, I dare not do that—
          Then I wouldn't be
          Barefoot John, where's your shoes at?
          Better go get 'em an'-a put 'em on.
          No sir, no, I dare not do that—
          Then I wouldn't be Barefoot John.
          Then I wouldn't be Barefoot John.