Amoeba man runs from high,
An old evil man he worries like,
about how he's gonna save his soul
An easy man, maybe he like whiskey
Silly girl, maybe she got caught
No lazy bones, maybe he stays home
It never gets cold enough
Mama pours it down a drain
Grandpa, he likes to keep it in reach
And all year long, old teetotalers songs
But on the holiday, hell,
The judges forget the law
There's natural born winners and losers
Out a -lookin' for the old -time thrill
Indian's luck with a burning cup
Get stuck by a whiskey still
Until it fills the head and makes the bed
Spin like a wild cat drill
Or in a hole down deep in your soul
That only the bottle can fill
Well, the blues ain't the never -run -dry
It never gets fallin' dry
Without a whiskey and rye
Well, the blues, oh, it never runs dry
Never full enough of whiskey and dry
Yeah, I'll never run from you