In the depression era, A tale told by hobos to snag young kids to do their begging for them. Tales of lemonade springs and cigarette trees abound. First sung about by Harry McClintock.
Now, It's a Skwatta's version of paradise. It's what keeps punks on the street hopeful.
Now, It's a Skwatta's version of paradise. It's what keeps punks on the street hopeful.
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains, there's a land that's fair and bright.
The handouts grow on bushes, and you sleep out everynight.
The handouts grow on bushes, and you sleep out everynight.
by Anarchist2884 September 23, 2009