2.

Rock Salt And Nails

Bruce Phillips

© Scruggs Music, BMI

By the banks of the river where the willows grow old
And wild birds warble the strange soundin' song
By the banks of the river where the waters run cold
Well that's where I first listened to lies you told

Now I lay here each night all alone and I weep
And nothing ain't worse than a night without sleep
The letters you wrote me they're written in shame
But I know that your conscience still echoes my name

Now if the ladies were blackbirds and the ladies were thrushes
I'd lay for hours in the cold rainy marshes
If the ladies were squirrels with big bushy tails
I'd fill up my shotgun with rock salt and nails
I'd fill up my shotgun with the rock salt and nails

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