I’ll Hold Your Head

4 bald tires on an old Impala
17 degrees South Alabama
Mama needs money and we’re late for school
Picking out the parts of a Bob Wills tune
I got a scrambled egg sandwich and a Folger’s can
Daddy says he’ll never work for the man
I’ll hold your head
I’ll ease your mind
Let me sing you a lullaby sit here by the fire
Tomorrow’s Sunday
Come and rest your soul
Let me be your good book
Story’s all been told
I’ll hold your head
Lord the world’s gone crazy can’t save your sin
He shouldn’t be driving in the shape he’s in
Icy cold water in the Santa Bogue
I hear a Ford pickup on the old dirt road
Mammy’s down the hill hulling peas in a pan
Dandy’s got a bucket and a hoe in his hand
I’ll hold your head
I’ll ease your mind
Let me sing you a lullaby sit here by the fire
Tomorrow’s Sunday
Come and rest your soul
Let me be your good book
Story’s all been told
I’ll hold your head
It ain’t fair for a youngun’ all this hurtin’
Battlin’ the blues and the beer and the bourbon
Come on Sissy let’s close the door
Don’t want to hear the noise no more