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Two feets they come a creepin |
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like a black cat do |
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and two bodies are layin' naked. |
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Creeper think he got nothin' to lose. |
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So he creeps into this house, yeah |
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and unlocks the door |
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and as a man's reaching for his trousers |
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shoots him full of thirty-eight holes. |
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It's the Saturday night special |
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got a barrel that's blue and cold |
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ain't good for nothin |
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but put a man six feet in a hole |
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Big Jim's been drinkin' whiskey |
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and playin' poker on a losin' night |
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and pretty soon ol' Jim starts a thinkin |
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somebody been cheatin' and lyin'. |
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So big Jim commence to fightin', |
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I wouldn't tell you no lie. |
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Big Jim done pulled his pistol, |
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shot his friend right between the eyes. |
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It's the Saturday night special |
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got a barrel that's blue and cold |
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ain't good for nothin |
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but put a man six feet in a hole |
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Hand guns are made for killin', |
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they ain't no good for nothin' else. |
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And if you like to drink your whiskey |
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you might even shoot yourself. |
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So why don't we dump 'em people |
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to the bottom of the sea |
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before some ol' fool come around here, |
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wanna shoot either you or me. |
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It's the Saturday night special |
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got a barrel that's blue and cold |
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ain't good for nothin |
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but put a man six feet in a hole |
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It's the saturday night special |
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and I'd like to tell you what you could do with it too |
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and that's the end of the song |