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THE MARTINS AND THE COYS (Alan Cameron / Ted Weems) Gene Autry & Smiley Burnette Gather 'round me children and I'll tell a story Of the mountains and the days when guns was law When two fam'lies got to feudin' It was bound to end in shootin' So just listen close, I'll tell you what I saw. Oh, the [G] Martins and the Coys they were reckless mountain boys And they took up family feudin' when they'd meet They would shoot each other quicker Than it took your eye to flicker They could knock a squirrel's eye out at ninety feet. All this fightin' started out one sunday morning When old grandpa Coy was full of mountain dew Just as quite as a churchmouse, he stole in the Martin's henhouse Cause the Coys they needed eggs for breakfast, too. Oh, The Martins and the Coys, they were reckless mountain boys Coz old grandpa Coy's gone where angels live When they found him on the mountain He was bleedin' like a fountain Cause they punctured him 'til he looked like a sieve. After that they started out to fight in earnest And they scarred the mountains up with shot and shell There was uncles, brothers, cousins Why they bumped them off by dozens Just how many bit the dust is hard to tell. Oh, The Martins and the Coys, they were reckless mountain boys At the art of killin' they become quite deft They all know'd they shouldn't do it But before they hardly knew it On each side they only had one person left. Now the sole remainin' Martin was a maiden And as purty as a picture was this Grace While the one survivin' boy was the handsome Henry Coy And the folks all knew they'd soon meet face to face. Oh, The Martins and the Coys, they were reckless mountain boys But their shootin' and their killin' sure played [hob] And it didn't bring no joy to know that Grace and Henry Coy Both had sworn that they would finish up the job. So, they finally met upon a mountain pathway And young Henry Coy he aimed his gun at Grace He was set to pull the trigger, when he saw her purty figure You could see that love had kicked him in the face. Oh, The Martins and the Coys, they were reckless mountain boys But they say their ghostly cussin' gives them chills But the hatchet sure was buried, when sweet Grace and Henry married It broke up the best durn feud in these here hills. You may think this is where the story ended But I'm tellin' you the ghosts don't cuss no more Cause since Grace and Henry wedded They fight worse than all the rest did And they carry on the feud just like before.


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