FIGHT

I was in a place called Printer's Alley down in Nashville the other night

Mindin' everybody's business but my own

When along came a short sort of skinny little runt

The kind that looked plumb harmless to pick on

I commenced to conversation I said hi there you little runt

You know somethin' boy you sure look a fright

Knowing I could lick him I let him stand right there

Talk big ole me into a fight

First I took my big ole face and I smashed him in the fist

Then I hit him till my nose was just a wreck

Then I took my pretty head and I placed it in his hands

And I began to wring then with my neck

With my big ole mouth I bit him in the shoe

And till my dying day I don't know why

But from a prone position I looked right up at 'im

And I poked him in the finger with my eye

I put flesh marks on his teeth and reached up from out of the dust

And I asked him if he thought he'd had enough

Cause I thought it was fair to warn him that we'd better call it off

Before I really started gettin' rough

I didn't hear his answer I just sort of fell asleep

That I was unafraid was very plain

And if any of you other little fellas try to pick on me

Just watch it kid I'll give you the same

It's a sin to hit Big Ben hi there Charlie

I mean Mr Charlie how you doing its good to see you