Translation: Porter, Billy. All I Do.
There's a screened-in porch in the front but not the back The back's just got a door and a crepe myrtle bush And a little ole dried up garden and some
I?m on a haystack kickin? back three bails high A flatbed stage and a full moon light Party on the farm all night long With the moonshine flowin' till
Sing our songs of freedom And we sing our songs of peace We sing about sweet harmony For to make the fighting cease Let's sing one song for the folks
A cakewalk down the gangplank full of greenbacks and Annapolis shoes From Jersey and Memphis, the home of the brave, and the home of the blues With voices
Somewhere east of edens gate We ran a light at love and hate Its tired and we're getting late The world is turnin, turnin, turnin Day breaks On a world
Watch the sky For a reason why I will say Sunday it was part Monday is none Monday was none For the dead next door One pair of silent terror reins And
a girl Secondary clothes Don't worry, nobody knows Somebody order my round 'Cause I'm getting by With a twelve pack from 12th and Porter with Billy 4
Where I thought of you now in your castle and crown So I found me a whore with a face just like yours After several gallons of porter When I awoke,
the vow "Be my Bonita" And her dowry was my life between the shores I was born with rouging ways, and she steered me like a woman From the port calls
Mon planisphA?re n'a pas de limite N'a pas de frontiA?re, pas de plans de portes qui se ferment L'ouverture est fraternelle Passez le mot, posse pas si
We would welcome back today They would really light the way So call up Jimi Let's have Stevie Look for Miles To take the floor Call for Billie Yell
hands together Young, uh-huh, yeah Uh-huh, yes I'm from the 80's, home of the heroine Error of the hustlers, uh the world is my custy New Rich Porter
MY ELUSIVE DREAMS WITH PAMELA ROSE GADD Writers Curly Putman, Billy Sherrill I followed you to Texas I followed you to Utah We didn't find it
JACKSON WITH PAMELA ROSE GADD (Billy Ed Wheeler - Gaby Rogers) « © '65 Quartet Music » We got married in a fever hotter than a pepper
Maybe I?m crazy Maybe I?m blind Cause I can?t understand The kind of mind That kills for God or money or the land It just seems odd to take that kind
[The J.B.'s] (Pass the peas, pass the peas, pass the peas...) [VERSE 1: Play] I used to break my back everyday, totin boxes in a factory Overworked,
