The Law and Other Trifles

Down in the bayou, where the moss hangs low
And the gators lie quiet in the water’s slow flow
The law come sniffin’ with their collars tight
But they don’t belong in the swamp at night

With lanterns high and their boots so clean
Cut through the cane where the ghosts ain't seen
But the folks here know where the shadows creep
And the secrets kept in the waters deep

The bayou don’t care for a badge or a name
And it don’t bow down to a city man’s claim
So they come with their guns and their silver stars
But the swamp don’t reckon with their fancy cars

Now old man Tibbs, with his laugh so sly
Said, “Let them boys come, let ’em try—  
Ain’t a thing they’ll find ‘cept what we show
And the bayou’ll swallow what they don’t know.”  

So hush, little gators, let the lawmen pass
They’ll be gone by dawn through the cattail grass
For in the bayou dark, where the wild things roam
The law don’t linger, and the swamp stays home