Put no stone at my head, no flowers on my tomb
|
No gold plated sign in a marble pillared room
|
The one thing I want when they lay me in the ground
|
When I die tear my stillhouse down
|
Oh tear my stillhouse down, let it go to rust
|
Don't leave no trace of the hiding place
|
Where I made that evil stuff
|
For all my time and money no profit did I see
|
That old copper kettle was the death of me
|
When I was a child way back in the hills
|
I laughed at the men who tended those stills
|
But that old mountain shine, it caught me somehow
|
When I die tear my stillhouse down
|
Oh tear my stillhouse down, let it go to rust
|
Don't leave no trace of the hiding place
|
Where I made that evil stuff
|
For all my time and money no profit did I see
|
That old copper kettle was the death of me
|
Oh tell all your children that Hell ain't no dream
|
'Cause Satan he lives in my whisky machine
|
And in my time of dying I know where I'm bound
|
So when I die tear my stillhouse down
|
Oh tear my stillhouse down, let it go to rust
|
Don't leave no trace of the hiding place
|
Where I made that evil stuff
|
For all my time and money no profit did I see
|
That old copper kettle was the death of me
|
|
-----------------
|
Tear My Stillhouse Down
|
| Gillian Welch |
