The boy in the woodshed is not very old
A long leather belt what is wicked and cold
Will snap at his back so he does what he's told
And he ain't going to cry anymore
He's got twelve year old shoes for five year old feet
With nothing to stand on and nothing to eat
And mom gives him liquor to put him to sleep
But he ain't going to cry anymore
And in a rotten old Chevy dad drives into town
To work in the mill that will soon be shut down
And he'll watch dear old dad drive that car in the ground
But he ain't going to cry anymore...
Birthday boy, a dollar bill in a card
And the boys in the school yard
With their boots so hard
But he ain't going to cry anymore
Mother waits, all the plates are put out
And the candles on a birthday cake
That he'll never blow out
But he ain't going to cry anymore...
Until one day in August by the old parish hall
He loaded a rifle for the first man he saw
Now his picture is tacked on the post office wall
And he ain't going to cry anymore...