Well, not long ago in a town this size,
Down south where the birds stay warm,
Lived a man named Sherwood,
Who handled odd jobs good and used to could
Cause kids all quite a stir throughout our neighborhood

See, Sherwood was the kind of guy
Who'd look ol' Sanity in the eye
And say "Believe you're trespassing, boy,"

Then he'd grab his rusty pellet gun
And pelt it off while all we'd run,
Right fearing he might kill us with that toy

Yes, one cold night in a town this size,
Down south where the birds stay warm,
Al Norris was taking his garbage out in a rainstorm,
And what'd he see but ol' Sherwood Barefoot

Lyin' on the ground spread eagle with his arms stretched out,
'Neath a ride mower mounted on cinder blocks,
No doubt just lookin' at how the sucker run
Or maybe just lyin' out for some ol' fun:
Sherwood often was
In a perplexing place or posture to be found

We marked our calendars every week:
One year Sherwood fancied take a car paintin' streak,
And sure as his name was Sherwood Barefoot,
Me and Al Norris saw those hub caps painted, too--

The front ones red, like the old Barefoot truck,
The rear left green, he said, for good luck,
And the right found Sherwood dippin' his last can of blue

Now I don't recall ever utterin' the words
"Amateur taxidermy" any time in life
Except when describing Sherwood Barefoot
None of them fancy raccoons or rabbits, mind you

See, Sherwood was a fishin' man too,
And the town's tour included only fairly 'fore 'twas through
A good look at the Barefoot household mantles'
Fish heads with sunglasses.

You ask anyone who knew ol' Sherwood Barefoot personal
What they remember the most about the legacy he'd tote,
And I guarantee sure as you can hear me
There's 3 things any right-minded sould would note:

1) Sherwood's moonshine business drew in some bait money when there weren't no fences or engines needed repair;

2) that amidst the regular car color changes showed sore-thumb style the Barefoot house's siding, which some unsuspecting greenhouse came to spare, and

3) most tragically-- the last lesson that old Sherwood 'forded all that ever hear the story of Sherwood Barefoot, and let seep into their souls what enrichin' buds of wisdom and charity he may leave behind, even as his kind hands reached out giving every day he lived-- at least in his own way:

Don't never make a barn collapse a one-man task
There's always gents who'd lend some muscle--
Don't be scared to ask

'Cause as we see in the times and deeds .
That Sherwood laid plain--
All the painin' and fishin' and shootin'
And brewin' and shoutin' out

Went silent on that day
Our hearts felt that Barefoot-sized pain

Sherwood grabbed his trusty sledge hammer
'Thout nary a warn
An' he toted it on his shoulder to the middle of the barn
Looked the center beam square, spat in hands,
Made a squinter...and sure enough,

Sherwood Barefoot fell quiet under a big pile of splinters.

So next time you're givin'
A new breed a' moonshine the taste test,
Drink to Sherwood, say the wods "remember the cap gun,"

And wish him the best.