Cold Cold Cold Ground - Thinking Fellers Union Local 282

We’re gonna hang you from the highest tree

We’re gonna watch your feet swing

We’re gonna put you six feet down

Into the cold, cold, cold ground

The sheriff looked up at the man standing on the tailgate of his truck with a

rope tied around his neck

He said, «Looks like your bad habit days are all over, boy.»

Then he spit in the dirt and stirred it around with the tip of his boot

And said, «You have the right to remain silent.»

Then he chuckled at his own bad joke as he turned away

He said «Come on, let’s get this over with.»

We’re gonna hang you from the highest tree

We’re gonna put you six feet down

We’re gonna watch your feet swing

Until you’re dead, dead, dead, dead

And if they pulled me out of the hole

Would I long to be underground?

Would I see with my eyes and not my mind?

Would my hands cover my mouth and not my ears?

And would I ever fall in love again?

Or would I only be part of some stupid plan?