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7 Oaks Lyrics


Well that banker
He keeps calling
Telling us our mortgage is overdue
Gonna plow up the fields
Gonna burn down the house
And the banker he can have it when I'm through
There ain't no silver left in these pockets
There ain't no cornbread, Lord there ain't no wine
That train don't stop around here anymore
It done moved on down the line
Well the tax man
He said old Uncle Sam
Gotta get this share of the rake
He can come around here
He can look for himself
There ain't nothing left he can take
There ain't no silver left in these pockets
There ain't no cornbread, Lord there ain't no wine

That train don't stop around here anymore
It done moved on down the line
I'm going to go back to Grandaddy's farm
On Cherokee allotted land
It ain't ever been owned by no one but him
Won't be taxed by no other man
There ain't no silver left in these pockets
There ain't no cornbread, Lord there ain't no wine
That train don't stop around here anymore
It done moved on down the line
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The Turnpike Troubadours, whose name is derived from the bumpy Oklahoma toll-roads and their hard lived folk singing heroes, are proof that isolation can be the mother of originality. Cutting their teeth in roadside dance halls and honky-tonks has made a serious impact on the band’s musical style, which walks the line between Woody Guthrie and Waylon Jennings. “Bossier City,” the band’s debut album, is testament to the small towns in which they were raised. It combines Folk, Country, Cajun, and Bluegrass with stories of longing, humor, tragedy, and general life in rural America.

Read more about Turnpike Troubadours on Last.fm.


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Turnpike Troubadours