Mr. Collin he's a hauling hay but his barn is falling
He got a for sale sign on a rusty sixty-one Ford
The train used to stop down here at the station
But that old whistle
It don't blow round here no more
And time eases on
And now the good old days are gone
Now old Mack, he was an outlaw, ain't no denying
But Ms Wanita kept him coming home
Eleven kids, seven decades later
Like an old oak tree, he stands alone
She's laid beneath the stone
And now his good old days are gone
Father time, he's a heartless hunter
He'll sneak up from behind
Steal away your youth and age your mind
Take away all the good things
And a few good folks left around
Til everything you love is in the cold ground
Cause old butch, he was a north Louisiana legend
A country-preneur, the first and the last of his kind
Til behind the counter at the bait shop one cold morning
Shots were fired and a small town cried
So let the Corny Queen, sail on
Because the good old days are gone
So let the Corny Queen, sail on
Because the good old days are gone
