Beth Hart and Joe Bonamassa - Nutbush city limits

Oh, yeah come on
hey, hey, hey, hey

A church house gin house
A school house outhouse
On highway number nineteen
The people keep the city clean
They call it Nutbush, oh Nutbush
They call it Nutbush city limits

Twenty-five for speed limit
Motorcicle not allowed in it
You go to store on Friday
You go to church on Sunday
They call it Nutbush, oh Nutbush
They call it Nutbush city limits
(Nutbush city limits)

You go to the fields on weekdays
And have a picnic on Labor Day
You go to town on Saturday
And go to church every Sunday
They call it Nutbush, oh Nutbush
They call it Nutbush city limits

No whiskey for sale
If you get drunk no bail
Salt pork and molasses
Is all you get in jail
They call it Nutbush, oh Nutbush
They call it Nutbush city limits
(Nutbush city limits)

A little town in Tennessee
That's called
A quiet little old community
A, a one horse town
You have to watch
What you're putting down
In little old Nutbush, hey

They call it Nutbush, oh Nutbush

They call it Nutbush city limit
Nutbush city limit
They call it Nutbush city limit
Nutbush city limit
They call it Nutbush, hey
They call it Nutbush

They call it, they call it, they call it, they call it, they call it, they call it
They call it Nutbush

Written by:
Tina Turner

Publisher:
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

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