[Intro: The Decemberists]
The air all painted pallid gray
The storm was coming in
Folks were lining out in all directions
Me and Holt and Henry Short
Were pitching on the skiff
Trying to make it home before the night
And the gray waves were rolling
Bold the brave, brave ocean and rolled us suckers in
[Verse 1: The Decemberists]
Well I don't keep to goings on
I tend to stick with kin
But Watson had it in from the beginning
He built that house on Chatham Bend
A white-washed knotted pine
Ninety acres furrowed for the cane
And he drove it down from Georgia
His dad a martyred soldier
In the war between the states
[Chorus: The Decemberists]
Lord, bring down the flood
Wash away the blood
And drown these everglades
And put us in our place
We laid Edgar Watson in his grave
We laid him in his grave
The air all painted pallid gray
The storm was coming in
Folks were lining out in all directions
Me and Holt and Henry Short
Were pitching on the skiff
Trying to make it home before the night
And the gray waves were rolling
Bold the brave, brave ocean and rolled us suckers in
[Verse 1: The Decemberists]
Well I don't keep to goings on
I tend to stick with kin
But Watson had it in from the beginning
He built that house on Chatham Bend
A white-washed knotted pine
Ninety acres furrowed for the cane
And he drove it down from Georgia
His dad a martyred soldier
In the war between the states
[Chorus: The Decemberists]
Lord, bring down the flood
Wash away the blood
And drown these everglades
And put us in our place
We laid Edgar Watson in his grave
We laid him in his grave
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