Down in Franklin County ’bout 1923
Smoke hangs on the hillside and the fire glows through the trees
The stills, they are bubblin’ from dusk until the dawn
Go lookin’ in the morning, you’ll find them gone, boys
You’ll find them gone
They say a man came down from Boston in a fancy shirt and coat
Demanded his fair portion from the sweat of the mountain fort
And when he tore into Virginia like a beast without no rest
He aimed a {?} the county they had left, boys
They say those boys from Franklin County sure know how to bootleg turn
When the railroad man comes tailin’ down that windin’ mountain road
No one saw or heard from that rich man for about three days or more
No one saw or heard that rich man; he set out to hunt them down, boys
Since he set out to hunt them down
Then one foggy mountain mornin’ in the town of Rocky Mount
That railroad man dangled from the tails of his own coat
He was soaked in bootleg whiskey, had his throat slit open wide
The sign nailed to his charred torso was the curse of the mountainside
{?} the curse of the mountainside
You will go down in Franklin County straight down to the gates of hell
There you’ll dress beneath the footfalls of the shines from their still
{?} overflowin’ with the devil’s homemade fire
It’ll go burnin’ down inside you like a thousand scorchin’ diamonds
Like a thousand scorchin’ diamonds
Local legend has it you can hear him on the wind
When the summer’s moon is wanin’ and the stars are burnin’ low
His cries, they tumble through the treetops, spill down the mountainside
As he curses Franklin County from the flamin’ lips of hell, boys
From the flamin’ lips of hell
Down in Franklin County ’bout 1923
Smoke hangs on the hillside and the fire glows through the trees
And the fire glows through the trees
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
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