Old Bill Jones

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Old Bill Jones was a son of a gun
When he got a drink or two
He’d hug the boys and kiss the girls.
He’d kiss their babies too
He lived on a trail that was easy to foller
Way down yonder in Moonshine Holler

He loved his fiddle and he loved his fun
And he loved his mountain dew
Old Bill Jones was a son of a gun
When he got a drink or two

They had a big meetin on the Cumberland Crag
And the people gathered in
The preacher preached till his tongue couldn’t wag
But he couldn’t stop their sin’
When old Bill came to give his greetin’
They all got happy and had a big meetin’

Well old Bill run for sheriff
Against the Prohibition men.
He swore he’d drink the country dry
If the folks would put him in.
I t almost tickled the Wets to death
When the Drys got drunk on old Bill’s breath.

Old Bill went a-courtin’
And his girl got mad and said

Bill Jones, I would not marry you
If all the rest were dead!
He slipped some whiskey in her coffee cup

And she was Mrs. Jones when she woke up.

Liner note says–
I knew this old Bill Jones since I was a boy
and if anything
this song I
wrote
about him is an understatement. He was the kind of man who would do anything
for his friends–and anything to his enemies–and was only afraid of two
things

the rattlesnake and the wild hog. Soon after I met him
he traded his saddle
mule for a Model T and became a “son-of-a-gun on wheels.” His wild days
over

he married
settled down
and raised a family. He studied at night school
and
became a lawyer
then a wise
respected judge. He was to give many a
suspended
sentence to young cutups–fellows like he used to be.