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Written by Eric Reid and Greg Critchley with Cranford Hollow

lyrics

Martha was a bad girl from down in Tennessee
She had too much time and too much wine to love a man like me
So when she pulled the gun it was no surprise our time was complete
See Martha’d had enough of love and shed had enough of me

Oh Martha, your eyes reveal the darkness of your soul
Oh Martha, where did all your happiness go?
Oh Martha, Martha tell me why you so damn cold
Oh Martha, Martha tell me why you so damn cold

Marthas daddy was a small time farmer had cows and a cotton gin
He worked the land with his own hands til the darkness settled in
When the Yankees came in 62 burnin lives with no regret
They laid waste to Marthas daddys farm and stuck him with a bayonet

She took her daddys knife and she ran away
to where the Alabama River meets Mobile Bay
And she hid in the swamp for a hundred days
Lord knows how she even survived
But twenty years later she was still on the run
Holdin up riverboats and killin for fun
And she had grown into the prettiest woman alive

After the war I headed south to the land of the Chickasaw
I met her on a riverboat queen her smoky eyes said it all
But that next morning when the sun did rise she could smell my northern blood
And the last thing I ever saw was Martha pull that gun

credits

from Cranford Hollow Self​-​Titled LP, track released October 25, 2013
Eric Reid: Vocals, Acoustic Guitar and Fiddle
Phillip Sirmans: Bass
Greg Critchley: Drums
John Cranford: Guitars, Banjo, Background Vox

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Cranford Hollow Hilton Head Island, South Carolina

Lowcountry Rock - HHI, SC

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