Lucky Mud
0000-00-00
Mike McKinney
Story
My family has been hiding out along the Withlacoochee River in Central Florida for about 200 years, and they're still hard to find. They seem to like it that way.
Lyrics
It's a long way
From the Isle of Skye
To this Florida swamp
Where the whipoorwill cries
Like a heart-broken lover
Left alone
My heart cries out
For its Scottish home
Where for hundreds of years
They fought and died
For the little lords
And their foolish pride
And every place a McKinney stood
You cut the ground with a shovel
You can smell the blood
Long before the Clearances came
They lost everything
But the family name
Some stayed behind
To fight the lords
But it was lochaber
Against horse and sword
Some took what they could
And they sailed away
To the Carolinas
In America
And they left a trail
To this Florida mud
You cut the ground with a shovel
You can smell the blood
It's never as easy
As we'd like it to be
So many bad branches
On the Family Tree
But it survived the famine
Stood against the flood
Cut through the roots
You can smell the blood
The McKinneys fought hard
For the things they stole
They fought against the law
And the Seminoles
They died with Dade
In the Piney Woods
Cut the ground with a shovel
You can smell their blood
It's never as pretty
As we'd like it to be
But the poor never suffer
From irony
They stayed alive
Any way they could
Cut the ground with a shovel
You can smell the blood
Cut the ground with a shovel
You can smell the blood
