LYRIC

I've really never known, but I've always been told

the river runs low when the cotton's old,

yet never would've grown shown I hadn't been sold

for a pound of silver or an ounce of gold.

Hey! Mister Free,

don't try to sell my liberty.

It costs too much for your magic touch,

so, just better bet let me be.

I have been told, but frilly words get rolled

when your four-flush raise pays a hand to hold,

just seen and raised a bluff play's a bit too bold

with a poker face lost cost enough to fold.

Say! Mister Free,

don't you dare sell my liberty.

It costs too much for your magic touch,

so you better bet let me be.

Past present future loan tales own wives old

fake news here now sown cast sum brand handle mold

be hind end led once proud course steadfast nation scold

ironic rust mistrust just ration force on doled.

Nay! Mister Free,

don't try to sell my liberty.

Uncouth costs touch truth lies magic touch,

now, how better bet let me be.

Loch high road taken wake in Finnegan age strolled

on good behavior savior savor thought paroled

be pending more review board minutes veil the poled

by savage-ravaged scryptic code hide hid old wold.

Gay! Mister Free,

don't try to sell my liberty.

Lost youth costs too much for your tragic touch,

so, hear better bet let me be.

Up the river double down and dirty cross Chris polled

pretend a valid boss brave as gloss, cajoled,

how southern men hard handled yet held easily tolled

past ratio one more than a noise sound signal scrolled

Gray! Mister Free,

don't try hell pay my liberty.

Loss costs too much for your magic touch,

spy, why better bet let me be?