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Hands off the Bayou Lyrics

Hands Off The Bayou

Run, run to the east confession trash.
We don't need your thrills or
your call-book cash
Let's just nature's got plans
To keep you up there...
Swamps, fiddles that whine
About the Mayor
Our caves are divine
They've got conditioned air.
Fan-tail, backwash, rooms
will stay up here
Hands off of the bayou.

Heel, stay in your state;
It's a new south trap.
What, what is the bait?
Ya silly aqua-cat.
War! College exams!
You know I learned a lot about
the fiction ya tossed.
And the father's fat and lost,
Your failless father lost...
Your chivalry is lost...
Your shivalry in shame.
Hands off of the bayou.
(get some bombs)
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