Salt in the Blood

She tends the bar while he shucks the oysters and steams the crab

There's a spindly little four year old drawing pictures in a booth there in the back

And they ain't gettin rich by any means, but he rent’s paid for now

That old rusty Jeep don't run no more, but they can always catch a ride into town

 

The old man worked the oyster beds til the arthritis in his shoulders got him down

Now he's on the side of 98 selling head on shrimp to the snow birds by the pound

And he thinks back on the days before the Apalachicola started running low

Before that runoff from Atlanta went and settled down here on the coast

 

We still ride them old shell roads

The shrimpers pull their loads

It's in the saw grass and the mud

And we got salt in the blood

 

He plays Buffet and Skynyrd and Mustang Sally, bout fifteen times a night

The locals come to hear Jole Blon, Jambalaya and I Walk the Line

At least he aint committing scary karaoke, to get his music fix

Come closing time he can almost pay his bar tab with the tips

 

We still ride them old shell roads

The shrimpers pull their loads

It's in the saw grass and the mud

And we got salt in the blood

 

When them storms come rollin in,

We don't break but we sure can bend

It's in the saw grass and the mud

And we got, salt in the blood