The Mafia Stole My Guitar

The mafia stole my guitar Aha aha The old time Telecaster Aha aha Down Florida way where they swing all day The sun beats down on Miami Town Collecting the dues For singing the blues The syndicate man's on the wire Aha aha He says he got a system on hire Aha aha In the old Cuba woods they was selling my goods Growing the vine drinking the wine Walking the tracks from the old outback The enginners turning the screws Aha aha He thinks he's got nothing to lose Aha aha But it's gotta be done on the Indian run Saying goodbye I dont wanna cry If the good lord was willing and the creek's not dry Oh God father, why hast thou forsaken me? Oh God father, why hast thou forsaken me?