(come on in) the whiskeys fine

(*ODonnell, Dave Turnbull, J.R. Shelby)
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 whiskeys fine.'
That old shack looked abandoned
Roof all fallin in
Just some pertrified planks
And some rusty ol tin
We both likely crapped our britches
When a voice from inside
Yelled, 'Come on in! The whiskeys fine.'
Then those swinngin doors opened
He staggered out on the porch
Dressed just like Davey Crocket
Beard clear down to the floor
He said, 'The bands drunk, beers skunked,
And we aint got no wine,
But come on in! The whiskeys 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 whiskeys fine.'
'The food will make you sick,
The air will make you choke,
The waitress aint a-workin,
And the Jukebox is broke.'
He said, 'the bands drunk, beers skunked,
And we aint got no wine,
But come on in! The whiskeys fine.'
He said, 'The pinballs wont roll,
The pool-table rocks,
And it hotter than two rats in heat,
Inside an old wool sock .'
'I wouldnt drink the water,
It tastes like turpentine,
Were WAY overpriced,
And a little hard to find.'
'The bands drunk, the beers skunked,
And we aint got no wine,
But come on in! The whiskeys fine.'
'Yall come on it! The whiskleys fine!'
'Yall come on in!
Aaawwww, The whiskleys fine!'
'Hehehehe'