She lived on a curve in the road, in an old, tar-paper shack

On the south side of the town, on the wrong side of the tracks

Sometimes on the way into town we'd say:

'Mama, can we stop and give her a ride?'

Sometimes we did, but her hands flew from her side

Wild eyed, crazy Mary

Down a long dirt road, past the Parson's place

That old blue car we used to race

Little country store with a sign tacked to the side

Said 'No L-O-I-T-E-R-I-N-G Allowed'

Underneath that sign always congregated quite a crowd

Take a bottle, drink it down, pass it around

Take a bottle, drink it down, pass it around

Take a bottle, drink it down, pass it around

One night thunder cracked, mercy backed outside her windowsill

Dreamed I was flying high above the trees, over the hills

Looked down into the house of Mary

Terrible thoughts, newspaper-covered walls, and Mary rising up above it all

Next morning on the way into town

Saw some skid marks and followed them around

Over the curve, through the fields, into the house of Mary

That what you fear the most, could meet you halfway

That what you fear the most, could meet you halfway

Take a bottle, drink it down, pass it around

Take a bottle, drink it down, pass it around

Take a bottle, drink it down, pass it around