Cheley Tackett: Music

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Milk duds, ligtnin' bugs, sweet cherry wine chug-a-lug chug-a-lug/gone fishin' skinny dippin' she tried to whip the devil around the stump

Oh my my shoo fly pie
Whistle dixie while the world rolls by/the only thing sacred to my southern upbringin was the sunday sermon and my mama's fried chicken

But with a sweet talk and a slow drawl/she wasn't no stick in the red clay mud/moonstruck and with lady luck i lost more than the tailgate tot he back of that truck singin'

Oh my my shoo fly pie/whistle dixie while that world rolls by/the only thing sacred to my southern upbrining was the sunday sermon and my mama's fried chicken

Oh no everybody knows showed up sunday mornin' in saturday night's clothes/Holy smokes I swear I didn't know it was the preacher's freaky daughter that I didn't get home

Oh my my shoo fly pie/whistle dixie while that world rolls by/the only thing sacred to my southern upbringing was the sunday sermon and my mama's fried chicken