Quixanne, ah'm in its grip   Quixanne, ah'm in its grip   Sinken in the mud   Patron-saint of the Bog.   They cum with boots of blud   Wit pitchfawk and with club   Chantin out mah name   Got doggies strainin onna chain   Lucy, ah'll love ya till the end!   They hunt me like a dog   Down in Sw-a-a-a-amp Land!         So cum mah executioners! Cum bounty hunters!   Cum mah county killers--for ah cannot run no more   Ah cannot run no more   Ah cannot run no more   No I can't!   Lucy, ya won't see this face agin   Wheb ya caught ya swing and burn...   Down in Sw-a-a-a-amp Land!         The trees are veiled in fog   The trees are veiled in fog   Like so many jilted brides   Now they're all breakin down and cry   Cryin tears upon mah face   Cryin tears upon mah face   And they smell of gasolene   a-a-a-a-ah- scr-e-e-e-a-am   Lucy, ya made a sinner out of me   Now ah'm burnin like a saint   Down in Sw-a-a-a-amp Land!         So cum mah executioners! Cum mah bounty huntahs!   Cum mah county killers--ya know ah cannot run no more   No ah cannot run no more.