RIP to Charlie Daniels
Now I know you've probably heard that story about the devil goin' down to Georgia
Where he bet Johnny for that fiddle of gold
Well, it's few and far between the amount of folks who know what happened thereafter
You see, in a fit of rage and aim to seek revenge
That devil packed his bags and he headed one state over to the heart of Dixie
And somehow he wound up in the southwest part of the Black Belt up 'round Monroe County
And that's where he met my grandfather, William Thomas Stanton
But everybody 'round here just called him W.T.
You see now, W.T. was a mean old cuss
And I reckon that devil didn't realize what kinda pickle he put himself in that night
In that pine standin' around Perdue Hill
Legend has it that devil's still buried out there somewhere
But I guess we'll never know