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Little Amsterdam, in a Southern town
Hominy, get it on the plate girl
Momma, keep your head down
Momma, it wasn't my bullet
Don't take me back to the Range
I'm just comin out of the cell in my brain
Girl you got to know these days which side you're on
Momma got shit, she loved a brown man
Then she built a bridge in the Sheriff's bec
She'd do anything to save her man
You see her olives are cold pressed
And her best friend is a sun dress
But Momma, it wasn't my bullet
Round and a round and a round I go
Round and a round this time for keeps
Father only you can save my soul
And playing that organ must count for something
Girl you got to know these days which side
You're on, Little Amsterdam, Shut down today
They buried her with a butter bean bouquet
And the Sheriff now can't ride away
Like he said into the sunset
And I won't say he shouldna paid
But Momma, it wasn't my bullet
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