Doyle Lawson & Quicksilver country store

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The rickety front porch, planks are creakin’
But the Hound dog by the door keeps sleepin’
Old men stare when you walk in
And behind the counter stands Big Jim
He’s five feet tall and a little change
Telling stories with a grin on his face
Chorus
It smells like country ham and cheese
Pipe tobacco and kerosene
There’s a pot belly stove and checkers by the door
It’s a dying breed the old country store
There’s homemade fudge, RC and moon pies
Fishing lures, guns and knifes
Camo gear and turkey calls
Carhartt coats and overalls
It’s a whole lot different than the new quick stack
‘Cause when you leave they say, “ya’ll come back”
Chorus
If you’re ever around these parts, stop in
‘Cause if you do you’re gonna wanna come back again
There’s a radio station playin’ country
And on Saturday nights they listen to the Opry
Tappin’ to the fiddles on a hard wood floor
It’s a dying breed the old country store
Man I love the old country store

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