Used to Be
Written by: Tom Skinner

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Roadside motor court

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Cabins made of sandstone

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And to the travelers of the mother road

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She was a port in the storm

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Now if those walls could talk

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Oh, the stories the could tell son

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And that roadside motor court

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It'd keep you safe and warm

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Now there's holes in the roof

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And there's weeds at the door

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That motor courts still there,

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but it don't see no travellers no more 

Guess who used to grow cotton
on these tired old farms
They'd load the wagon time and time again
With their weary old arms
They'd make a little money at the gin
Pay a little credit at the store
they scratched and they worked the land
Until the dirt got poor

Now that cotton gin is some kind of 
second hand store
the building's there,
But they don't gin no cotton no more

They used to go dancing
Down at the Log Cabin Bar
There'd be laughing, carrying on
Make a little love out in the car
They'd spread that sawdust down
On a concrete floor
They'd dance all night
Until they're feet got sore

Till one Sunday Morning
They had the law burn her down
Now there aint no place for us to go Dancin
In this one horse town

Yeah, we used to dance in this town
     
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It's been a long time since tey've seen any travelers

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The building's still there but they don't gin any cotton

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There used to be a place to go dance in this town