Bootleg John
In the land of Breathed County was raised a crooked man
Made the county dry and the prices high
For the bootleg whiskey man
His age was barely twenty-one, his family was ashamed
They had a son who left his home
For a bootleg whiskey game
Bootleg John won't you come on home
Your family's all alone
You're runnin' wild and your baby child
Wants his daddy home
His wife she loved hime dearly tho' he seldom came around
She'd always cry when he said goodbye
But she never could hold him down
Twelve pistols in his pocket his shotgun on the floor
He made his run to Lexington
To the bootleg whiskey store
His car was full of whiskey, his hand was on his gun
He was set to go but he didn't know
He was makin' his last run
The sheriff pulled him over and he shot the lawman down
They locked him well in the county jail
And the jailer slapped him down
El contrabandista John
En la tierra del Condado Breathed fue criado un hombre torcido
Hizo que el condado se secara y los precios subieran
Para el hombre del whisky de contrabando
Apenas tenía veintiuno, su familia estaba avergonzada
Tenían un hijo que dejó su hogar
Por un juego de whisky de contrabando
Contrabandista John, ¿no vendrás a casa?
Tu familia está toda sola
Estás corriendo desenfrenado y tu hijo pequeño
Quiere a su papá en casa
Su esposa lo amaba profundamente aunque rara vez aparecía
Siempre lloraba cuando se despedía
Pero nunca pudo retenerlo
Doce pistolas en su bolsillo, su escopeta en el suelo
Hizo su carrera a Lexington
A la tienda de whisky de contrabando
Su auto estaba lleno de whisky, su mano en su pistola
Estaba listo para irse pero no sabía
Que estaba haciendo su última carrera
El sheriff lo detuvo y le disparó al alguacil
Lo encerraron bien en la cárcel del condado
Y el carcelero lo golpeó