WRITTEN BY: OWEN TEMPLE & ADAM CARROLL
Tinsy Eggleston rode a car bomb to Kingdom Come
Elmer Holliday laid in a shallow grave, he had to go away
Locals speaking of the Ringside Pub and the Dueces Club
Keep voices low, Little Chicago is Fort Worth you know
A five mile strip, the further you went, the badder it’d get
Seven nightclubs, ten motor inns to get lost in
Black book with cops’ names and dollar signs
Every now and then one of them gets out of line
The Chief of Police and the DA are down Jacksboro Highway
Saw Sally Rand with an ostrich fan at a fireworks stand
And the greasy spoon’s upstairs room was packed at noon
High stakes poker games and slot machines
Downstairs there’s no one there, just empty chairs
Parking lot full to the break of day down Jacksboro Highway
Chrome wheels of Oldsmobiles’ trunks are filled
With contraband so please don’t tell Uncle Sam
At the Tower Motel, they won’t tell what they sell
Word gets around, when a car explodes it shakes the ground
It’s funny how time slips away down Jacksboro Highway
© 2010 Owen Temple Music (BMI) / Gypsy Shuffler Music (BMI)
