Ike Turner - Nutbush city limits Lyrics

Church-house, gin-house
School-house, out-house
On highway number nineteen
The people keep the city clean

They call it Nutbush
Oh, Nutbush
Call it Nutbush city limits

Twenty-five was the speed limit
A motorcycle not allowed in it
You go to school on Fridays
To go to church on Sundays

They call it Nutbush
Oh, lovely town
Oh, Nutbush
Call it Nutbush city limits

You're gonna feel on weekdays
And have a picnic on Labour Day
You go to town on Saturdays
But go to church every Sunday

They call it Nutbush
Oh, Nutbush
Call it Nutbush city limits

There's no whiskey for sale
You get caught no bail
Soft port and molasses
Is all you get in jail

They call it Nutbush
Oh Nutbush
Yeah, they call it Nutbush city
Nutbush city limits

Little old town in Tennessee
That's called a quiet little old community
A one-horse town
You have to watch what you're putting down

Oh Nutbush
They call it Nutbush...