There's a shack down by the railroad track, a cat lives there who blows the sacks.All the folks come down and bring their lunch, and they do a little dance that they callthe scrunch.Well the place is only about six by four, the cats jam in and lock the door, the sacksblows out with a melatonin, then they talk about the boogin' and the carryin' on.Well at half past ten it's time to eat, cornbread, bones, and barbecued meat, they wash it alldown with a drink of wine, and they start to rock it like a porcupine.Now when that sack starts to blowin' low, all the folks know that it's time to go, thecats fall in out of that beat-up shack, and they ride on home in that chartreuse Cadillac.