Down Highway 501, past old-man Pate’s land
Way beyond the cotton fields where the old paper mill stands
You’ll see a riverbank where you will find
John Miller laid to rest beneath that longleaf pine
I came home from work one day, I heard my Emily cry
I made my way to her room, I had to find out why
John Miller, he had my little girl pinned on her bed
So I pulled my .38, put a bullet in his head
I dragged his body down to the riverbank that night
I can still see the blood where it ran down and dried between his eyes
I have no guilt or shame for the deed I’ve done
He hurt my little girl, and deserved to die by my gun
I came home from work that day, I heard my Emily cry
I made my way to her room, I had to find out why
John Miller, he had my little girl pinned on her bed
So I pulled my .38, put a bullet in his head
Yes I pulled my .38, put a bullet in John Miller’s head
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