George Gudger’s Overalls Doc Watson

As I walked out one mornin'
In the Alabama chill
I saw some old friends hangin'
From a tree on Hobie's Hill
By their tattered legs, they dangled
Drippin' down along the spine
It was old George Gudger's overalls
A-dryin' on the line

George Gudger, he's an honest cuss
And he loves to work his land
And I'd long admired his overalls
That I held there in my hand
My brand-new pair was stiffer
Than a starched-up Sunday suit
But his could walk around by thereselves
And plow the corn to boot

Now the knees looked almost bloody
From the red Hale County clay
George Gudger's debts and prayers
Had kept him kneelin' down all day
Old George owes me money
But I owe him my respect
If his overalls will fit me
Boy, I'll forget about his debt