(Come on in) The Whiskey's Fine

Me and my cousin Lendyl

Got lost hunting Coon

In the Carolina Mountains

Somewhere outside of Boone

We were just about to panic

When 'ol Lendyl saw the sign

It said, "Come on in! The whiskey's fine."

That old shack looked abandoned

Roof all fallin' in

Just some petrified planks

And some rusty ol' tin

We both likely crapped our britches

When a voice from inside

Yelled, "Come on in! The whiskey's fine."

Then those swingin' doors opened

He staggered out on the porch

Dressed just like Davey Crocket

Beard clear down to the floor

He said, "The band's drunk, beer's skunked,

And we ain't got no wine,

But come on in! The whiskey's fine."

We peeked in over his shoulder

And the first thing that we saw

Was a boy pickin' a banjo

In a pair of overalls

He said, "That boy is half crazy,

Plays the same song all the time,

But Hey come on in! The whiskey's fine."

"The food will make you sick,

The air will make you choke,

The waitress ain't a-workin',

And the Jukebox is broke."

He said, "the band's drunk, beer's skunked,

And we ain't got no wine,

But come on in! The whiskey's fine."

He said, "The pinballs won't roll,

The pool-table rocks,

And it hotter than two rats in heat,

Inside an old wool sock."

"I wouldn't drink the water,

It tastes like turpentine,

We're way overpriced,

And a little hard to find."

"The band's drunk, the beer's skunked,

And we ain't got no wine,

But come on in! The whiskey's fine."

"Ya'll come on it! The whiskey's fine!"

"Ya'll come on in!

Aawwww, The whiskey's fine!"