Old Man Sly Lyrics

Way down in Georgia, by the Chattahoochee line,

Lived a man they called Old Man Sly.

Gray in his beard, but a fire in his eye,

A Confederate soldier who never said die.

He sold off the land where the pines touched the sky,

With a handshake deal and a whiskey goodbye.

Old Man Sly, with his slow Southern drawl,

Sellin' off Georgia, one acre at a crawl.

With stories of battles and hard times gone by,

He'd take your money, but never your pride.

He'd sit on his porch in a weathered old chair,

With a jug of corn liquor and a cold-hearted stare.

He'd talk 'bout the war and the boys he'd once known,

And the price that was paid on a land not their own.

Said, "The South may have lost, but I got my land,

And I'll sell you a piece if you got cash in hand."

Old Man Sly, with his slow Southern drawl,

Sellin' off Georgia, one acre at a crawl.

With stories of battles and hard times gone by,

He'd take your money, but never your pride.

Some say he's a relic from a time that is dead,

But he's got old secrets, things better unsaid.

In the cracks of his story, there's more than meets the eye,

A soldier turned salesman, Old Man Sly.

Some say he's a relic from a time that is dead,

But he's got old secrets, things better unsaid.

In the cracks of his story, there's more than meets the eye,

A soldier turned salesman, Old Man Sly.

And when the last of his acres was finally sold,

Old Man Sly just vanished, like a ghost in the cold.

Old Man Sly, with his slow Southern drawl,

Sellin' off Georgia, one acre at a crawl.

With stories of battles and hard times gone by,

He'd take your money, but never your pride.

Now the land's all gone, but his legend remains,

In the hills of old Georgia, in the wind and the rain.

Old Man Sly, with that fire in his eye,

A piece of the South that will never die.