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Brock Zeman
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The Greasy Skillet Boys
Raised up on stilts above the swamps and the mud
Sits a little bar called the Bubblin' Sud
Come down for a drink this Halloween
I'll show you something your eyes ain't never seen
On Halloween night twenty years ago
There come a band in a bus just to play a show
They called themselves the Greasy Skillet Boys
They didn't make the show but they sure made some noise
Just near the bar around Jack Knife Bend
Their bus met a transport head to head
There was banjos and fiddles all over the road
But they never found the bodies so the story goes
The very next year on the very same day
The Greasy Skillet Boys showed to play
Folks go wild for them around here
And they play the Bubblin' Sud every single year
They get up on stage and let 'er rip
All the people start dancing and shaking their hips
Ain't nothing like a band of the living dead
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Come dawn's early light they'll be gone again
A hard wind will start blowing come twelve o'clock
Then the bottles start shaking in behind the bar
A cool grey fog will cover the floor
Then you know The Greasy Skillet Boys are ready to go
They come floating through the door with weeds in their hair
Spiders and slugs crawling everywhere
The bass will start thumping, the banjo will ring
And there'll be crawdad's hanging from the guitar strings
Even though their mostly just skin and bones
All the barroom ladies want to take them home
Between songs they'll be drinking Old Crow
You can hear it splashing off their rib cage bones
They'll play all night if you can stand the smell
Comes dawn's early light they'll be back in hell
You'll be shouting for more as they're packing their gear
But you're gonna have to wait just another year
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