Lyrics
All them yankees gunning for Daytona
Trying to leave that sleet and slush behind
An hour south of Savannah
Almost across that Florida line
For heaven's sakes put on your brakes
Or you're gonna see those flashing lights
This ain't your destination, son
But you might just spend the night
It's a clip joint, speed trap, roughneck town
You better find yourself another route
You'll drive into Ludowici
But you might not drive back out
The long arm of Long County
Will tie you in a knot
They'll pull you over and take you for a ride
Take you for everything you got
It got so bad by 1969
Lester Maddox came down and put up a sign
Trying to warn some good people
That they was tryin' to bring you down
