Roughhouse Boys

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Guitars:  Greg Leisz

Violins:  Carla Kihlstedt, Gabe Witcher

Accordion:  Phil Parlapiano

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I want to go home but I don’t know how

To my calico girl and that goddamned plow

Raise your hand, son, you’re in the outfit now

 

And then six months later, don’t know why this is

But it sounds like heaven when the campfires hiss

And this wet night settles on the hills like this

 

And the rest don’t matter ‘cause we’re the Roughhouse Boys

Yeah the rest don’t matter ‘cause we’re the Roughhouse Boys

 

Til you find that mercy you can call your death

There’s no soldier’s secret, no shiny bright path

Satan himself, he could save his breath

 

Send my letter to my darlin’ one

And tell Lincoln and Lee they can suck my gun

I have pawned my life til this killing’s done

 

And the rest don’t matter ‘cause we’re the Roughouse Boys

Yeah the rest don’t matter ‘cause we’re the Roughhouse Boys

 

Tell everybody in the smoky room

I swear to you by this wildcat moon

Tell the Yankee bastards I will see them soon

 

I made this knife with my own two hands

‘Cause my conscript rifle wasn’t worth a damn

I’m going to pick some fella, show him who I am

 

And the rest don’t matter ‘cause we’re the Roughhouse Boys

Yeah the rest don’t matter ‘cause we’re the Roughhouse Boys

All songs © Greg Copeland / Nel Mezzo Music .  All rights reserved
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