 Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean My fists got hard, my wits got keen Roamed from town to town to hide my shame But I made me a vow to the moon and stars I'd search the honky-tonks and bars And kill that man that gave me that awful name Well, it was Gatlinburg in mid-July And I'd just hit town and my throat was dry I thought I'd stop and have myself a brew