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Blue Field

This song is by Stonewall Jackson and appears on the album The Real Thing (1970).

In the West Virginia hills there must be ten thousand stills
And they found the biggest one outside of Blue Field
A little peaceful country town nothin' else for miles around
I saw whiskey run like water down through Blue Field

My trouble started on that Tuesday afternoon
The sheriff told me federal men will be here soon
He said we've come up with a plan to catch Blue Field's slickest man
And we will as sure as I'm the sheriff of Blue Field

On a Wednesday I had ninety jars to cap
Didn't think they'd had the time to set the trap
In the brush I heard a sound and I swiftly hit the ground
One live shot might send them runnin' back to Blue Field

Not a soul suspected me I was the sheriff's deputy
I'll make whiskey but God knows I'd never killed
I didn't know he was that close when I let my shotgun go
But I found I killed my friend the sheriff of Blue Field

I recall how my mama and my girl friend cried
When they left with me for Roanoke for the trial
It's my last night in this cell the last story I will tell
As I sit on death row dreamin' about Blue Field
Blue Field, Blue Field, oh Blue Field


Written by:

Stonewall Jackson

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