Used To Be

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Roadside motor court 
 
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Cabins made of sandstone 
 
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And to the travelers of the mother road 
 
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She was a port in the storm 
 
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Now if those walls could talk 
 
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Oh, the stories the could tell son 
 
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And that roadside motor court 
 
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It'd keep you safe and warm 
 
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Now there's holes in the roof 
 
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And there's weeds at the door 
 
     D 
That motor courts still there, 
 
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but it don't see no travellers no more  
 
Guess who used to grow cotton 
on these tired old farms 
They'd load the wagon time and time again 
With their weary old arms 
They'd make a little money at the gin 
Pay a little credit at the store 
they scratched and they worked the land 
Until the dirt got poor 
 
Now that cotton gin is some kind of  
second hand store 
the building's there, 
But they don't gin no cotton no more 
 
They used to go dancing 
Down at the Log Cabin Bar 
There'd be laughing, carrying on 
Make a little love out in the car 
They'd spread that sawdust down 
On a concrete floor 
They'd dance all night 
Until they're feet got sore 
 
Till one Sunday Morning 
They had the law burn her down 
Now there aint no place for us to go Dancin 
In this one horse town 
 
Yeah, we used to dance in this town 
      
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It's been a long time since tey've seen any travelers 
 
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The building's still there but they don't gin any cotton 
 
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There used to be a place to go dance in this town