Hawg Caller

Wo wo wuh wo wo
Wo wo wo wo oh wo
Wo wo wuh wo wo
Wo wo wo wo oh wo

Hey I'm just an old hawg caller
I love my collard greens
I live way back in a holler
Where no one ever sees
Except for me and my family
And the gang that I hang with
They;re all a bunch of hawg callers
And every one is a son of a bitch

Wo wo wuh wo wo
Wo wo wo wo oh wo
Wo wo wuh wo wo
Wo wo wo wo oh wo

Way back here in the jungle
We don't cut no trees
Cause they help us hide our gardens
And the tracks of our ATV's
From the drones and the helicopters
From the locals and the Feds
From the nosy sons of bitches
Down at the I.R.S

Wo wo wuh wo wo
Wo wo wo wo oh wo
Wo wo wuh wo wo
Wo wo wo wo oh wo

We don't fuss, we don't fight
We just scratch what itches
We like to, down a few
And party with our bitches yeah

Wo wo wuh wo wo
Wo wo wo wo oh wo
Wo wo wuh wo wo
Wo wo wo wo oh wo

Here comes an old hawg caller
With a hawg-leg in his hand
He brung along his daughters
And at least a dozen friends
They got a banjo and a fiddle
Some drums and tamborines
We're gonna play some music
And here's what we're gonna sing

Wo wo wuh wo wo
Wo wo wo wo oh wo
Wo wo wuh wo wo
Wo wo wo wo oh wo

We don't fuss, we don't fight
We just scratch what itches