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.
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.