...couldn't find 'animals'
so here's more charlie daniels, et al
If you ever go back in the Wooley Swamp
You'd better not go at night
There's things out there in the middle of them woods
Will make a strong man die from fright
There's things that crawl and things that fly
And things that creep around on the ground
And they say that the ghost of Lucius Clay
Gets up and it walks around
But I couldn't believe it - I just had to find out for myself
I couldn't conceive it - cause I never would listen to nobody else
I couldn't believe it - I just had to find out for myself
There's some things in this world you just can't explain
The old man lived in Wooley Swamp
Way back in Booger Woods
And he never did do a lot of harm in this world
But he never did do no good
People didn't think too much of him
They all thought he acted funny
The old man didn't care about people anyway
All he cared about was his money
He'd stuff it all down in mason jars
And bury it all around
And on certain nights if the moon was right
He'd dig it up out of the ground
He'd pour it all out on the floor of his shack
And run his fingers through it
Lucius Clay was a greedy old man
And that's all there was to it
The Cagle boys were white trash
Lived over on Carver's Creek
They were mean as a snake and sneaky as a cat
And Belligerent when they'd speak
One night the oldest brother said
Y'all meet me in the Wooley Swamp later
And we'll take old Lucius' money and we'll
Feed him to the alligators
They found the old man out in back
With a shovel in his hand
And thirteen rusty mason jars he'd just dug up out of the sand
And they all went crazy and they beat the old man
And they picked him up off the ground
And they threw him in the swamp and stood there
And laughed as the black water sucked him down
Then they turned around and went back to the shack
and picked up the money and ran
They hadn't gone nowhere when they realized
They were running in quicksand
And they struggled and they screamed
But they couldn't get away
And just before they went under
They could hear the old man laughing in
A voice as loud as thunder
Now that's been fifty years ago and you can go by there yet
There's a spot in the yard in the back of that shack
Where the ground is always wet
And on certain nights if the moon is right
Down by the dark footpath
You can hear three young men screaming
And you can hear one old man laugh.
(Hey, Fly? Would "pigs-three different kinds" be better?)
