TOM SMITH


The Feud The Proud Lyrics

The Feud, The Proud
(keywords: junkyard, wars; style: bluegrass)

The Hatfields and the McCoys
Have been at it since they were boys,
But muskets and traps have been put under wraps
In favor of new techie toys.

Ol' Manfred McCoy built a hound,
Fifteen feet tall, and three thousand pounds,
A cast-iron killer, he called it Dawgzilla,
Ain't a Hatfield it can't bring to ground.

Well, Clem Hatfield struck back with panache,
Wanted somethin' too hefty to smash,
It was tough an' it stank, so he called it Septic Tank,
Just a cannon on a dumpster for trash.

Then the kids wanted in on the fun,
Tried creatin' a new kind o' gun,
Little Elmer and Bonita made a meat-an'-greet repeater,
hand-crank meat grinder with an M-1.

They went into the cornfield at dawn,
And like Mills Lane, said "Let's get it on!"
But Dawgzilla chased some squirrels, Elmer wouldn't
play with girls,
And the dumpster rolled downhill, an' it's gone.

So the Hatfields and the McCoys
Have abandoned their new techie toys
Ain't exactly a truce, both have just gone recluse,
An', quite frankly, I don't miss the noise.

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