In the depression era,
A tale told by hobos to
snag young kids to do their begging for them. Tales of lemonade springs and cigarette trees abound. First sung about by Harry
McClintock.
Now, It's a Skwatta's version of paradise. It's what keeps punks on the street hopeful.
In the Big
Rock Candy Mountains, there's a land
that's fair and bright.
The
handouts grow on bushes, and you sleep out everynight.
