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[at-l] The Ballad of Richie Rich, dance version
- Subject: [at-l] The Ballad of Richie Rich, dance version
- From: "RenMan" <DavidEpley@email.msn.com>
- Date: Mon, 21 Dec 1998 23:56:54 -0500
Hey folks after a couple of requests and to support my own ego, I've decided
to write down the song I sang at the end of the Trail Days Talent show. For
any who don't know, there was a guy in March who robbed 2 banks in Georgia
and tried the AT as his getaway. This is a true story told with only a
little poetic licensing.
To be sung to the tune of "The Beverly Hillbillies" theme.
Lemme tell y'all a story 'bout a man named Woody,
Poor dumb crook robbed a bank and then he shouldy,
Gone back home, back to Californ-I-A,
Instead he bought a pair of boots,
And he tried to hike away.
(In cotton no less, 5 pairs of blue jeans)
Well, the next thing you know, Woody gets to Neel's Gap,
I met him there and we had ourselves a rap.
Talked to him 'bout his gear,
And I bent him to my will.
So he bought 600 dollars worth of
And he paid with sequential bills.
(Not a bright boy that kid, he was so dumb, he thought a woodpecker was
somethin' sailors get after a nasty whaling accident.)
With his ill-gotten gain Woody bought himself some goods.
He hiked away again,
Back off into the woods.
Fell in love with every woman that he met along the way,
But they all turned him down,
So he decided to be gay.
(Alright, alright, it didn't quite happen that way, and it wouldn't matter
anyway. Although, I have been wonderin' why they call that one fella,
Well the cops here in the Southland,
They're a mighty sturdy lot.
When it comes to catchin' crooks,
Stupid they are not.
They caught Woody's scent, way up here on the Trail.
And they started them a manhunt, to put that boy in jail.
Now when yer hikin' thru the woods for weeks and weeks on end.
To the untrained eye, we all smell the same, my friend.
The cops they started lookin' twice,
At every hiker came to town,
And they took us in fer questionin',
To track ol' Woody down.
Tomahawk got picked up,And Bivvy questioned, true.
Skiddah kept her mouth shut, but she hiked with Woody, too.
The cops they started reachin',
And you might think it's hokey,
But they lifted all the registers from the shelters in the Smokies.
Since he was a wanted man, Woody kept his profile low.
He took himself an alias, a trailname doncha know.
The one he finally settled on, it really is quite a stitch.
After robbin' two banks in Georgia, he called himself "Richie Rich"!
Woody left the trail, and hitched back across the states.
Back in California, he robbed another bank.
They caught him at his girlfriend's, while he was gettin' spanked.
The long arm of the Law reached out, and gave that boy a yank.
Now Woody, he's in prison,
And I'm here to tell you all,
He sleeps standing up each night, with his backside 'gainst the wall.
See, he fancies himself a pretty-boy, so he's clinging to a hope.
He showers every mornin' with soap on a rope.
(Yeah, ol' Woody's gotta watch his back now. He's not in just any ordinary
prison. He's in Beverly Hills. Hardened Crooks, and Movie Stars)
Woody, when you're a free man,
In another 5 to 10,
If you feel like finishing up that hike, you started way back when,
We all invite you back this way, to hike the old A.T.
We'll bring you Trail Magic, Appalachian Hospitality.
Y'all come on back, Woody. You make us laugh.
The Ballad of Richie Rich!
If you read this far, thanks.
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