Six Merry Men American Murder Song
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Six Merry Men" by American Murder Song. Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
We're six merry men at the old whiskey shed
Swinging wild on our feet, blind and high as a fife
'Round, 'round the barrel 'til its belly is bled
And every man's pissing fire and howling for life
One for the glut, one for the Lord
One for the elk on the balcony board
Hold the man flat, wall up the door
Every man takes a turn
We're six merry men at the old whiskey shed
Swinging wild on our feet, blind and high as a fife
'Round, 'round the barrel 'til its belly is bled
And every man's pissing fire and howling for life
Stuck to the floorboards with teeth in his hair
And a cleft arm splashing in the pool by his hip
As crazy boy Levi, as mad as a mare
Wipes his good blade twice upon the sweat on his lip
Stomping our prayer, Indian-eyed
Half way to Concord and fit to be tied
Knives in the roof, guts in the rye
Every man takes a turn
We're six merry men at the old whiskey shed
Swinging wild on our feet, blind and high as a fife
'Round, 'round the barrel 'til its belly is bled
And every man's pissing fire and howling for life
Swinging wild on our feet, blind and high as a fife
'Round, 'round the barrel 'til its belly is bled
And every man's pissing fire and howling for life
One for the glut, one for the Lord
One for the elk on the balcony board
Hold the man flat, wall up the door
Every man takes a turn
We're six merry men at the old whiskey shed
Swinging wild on our feet, blind and high as a fife
'Round, 'round the barrel 'til its belly is bled
And every man's pissing fire and howling for life
Stuck to the floorboards with teeth in his hair
And a cleft arm splashing in the pool by his hip
As crazy boy Levi, as mad as a mare
Wipes his good blade twice upon the sweat on his lip
Stomping our prayer, Indian-eyed
Half way to Concord and fit to be tied
Knives in the roof, guts in the rye
Every man takes a turn
We're six merry men at the old whiskey shed
Swinging wild on our feet, blind and high as a fife
'Round, 'round the barrel 'til its belly is bled
And every man's pissing fire and howling for life
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