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 cells in my brain   girl you got to know these days   which side your on      Momma got shit   she loved a brown man   then she built a bridge to the Sheriff's bed   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 and a round this time for keeps   Father only you can save my soul   and playing that organ must count   for somthing   girl you got to know these days   which side your 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 wont say   he shouldna pay   but Momma   it wasn't my bullet