Ike & Tina Turner - Nutbush City Limits текст песни

A church house, gin house, a school house, outhouse

On highway number nineteen, the people keep the city clean

They call it Nutbush, oh Nutbush

They call it Nutbush city limits



Twenty-five was the speed limit, motorcycle not allowed in it

You go to store on Fridays, you go to church on Sundays

They call it Nutbush, little old town, oh Nutbush

They call it Nutbush city limits



You go to the fields on weekdays and have a picnic on Labor day

You go to town on Saturdays but go to church every Sunday


They call it Nutbush, oh Nutbush

They call it Nutbush city limits



No whiskey for sale, if you get caught, no bail

Salt pork and molasses is all you get in jail

They call it Nutbush, oh Nutbush

Yeah, they call it Nutbush, [Incomprehensible], Nutbush city limits



A little old town in Tennessee,

That's called a quiet little community

A one-horse town, you have to watch what you're putting down

In old Nutbush, they call it Nutbush