DOOR TO DOOR
                   Connie Sellers & Greg Trafidlo, © 2005

Daddy was a runner/ in a souped-up Edsel Ford
With a trunk full of white lightning/ and a loaded forty-four
He always started late/ left the police at the gate
When he delivered moonshine door to door

I learned the trade just like my daddy did
On the back roads of the county / when I was just a kid
No time for biscuits, beans and country ham/
We ate Vienna sausage from a can

Door to door. Door to door
The welcome mat was always out
From the good folks on our route
When we delivered moonshine door to door

He would always tell me/ "Don't buy whiskey at the store.
It's only half as good/ and costs a whole lot more"
Our still house got the axe/ 'cause we didn't pay no tax
'Best to get your moonshine door to door."

Daddy didn't worry about the law
The sheriff was his brother/ the mayor was his paw
They always took good care of Dad and me/
'Specially when they got their liquor free…

Repeat Chorus

Now when I'm watching NASCAR/ they're flying 'round the track
I think about my Daddy/ oh, how it takes me back
He'd say "stay low in the turns, that's the way the rubber burns"
It's just like hauling moonshine door to door

Repeat Chorus