Chicken Shack

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I’m goin’ down to Luther’s

get me a bootleg sack

I said I’m goin’  down to Luther’s

get me a bootleg sack

And then it’s over to Miss Sally’s

Shake it down by the Chicken Shack

Them bones be flip ‘n flyin’

In the air and on the floor

I said, them bones be flip ‘n flyin’

In the air and on the floor

Shimmy it down, baby

‘Til I can’t stand it no more

I’m cryin’ at you, baby

When you goin’ to treat me right? 

I’m cryin’ at you, darlin‘ baby

When you goin’ to treat me right?

I give you all my hard-earned money 

Come near each and every night! 

When I was growing up in my town the only way an underaged kid could get alcohol was to go to the bootlegger. It was actually only a couple of blocks from my house, so very convenient. Boone’s Farm wine was a favorite, I guess because it was more Koolaid than it was wine. Then there was what we called Ms. Ann’s chicken shack, a house where you could get the very best fried chicken, and just about anything else from gambling to girls. I don’t know why I changed her name in the song, it just rolled out that way. Oh well.