Let me tell ya'll a story

So far fetched it must be true

Bout a bunch of fatherless boys from Florida and
a boy who was man enough for two.

Practiced twelve hours a day in the Hell House

In the swamps out side of town.

100 degrees without no open windows

Heat radiating off the tin.

They named their band Lynyrd Skynyrd, after the
coach who kicked them out of school.

Practiced seven days a week cuz Rock's the only
thing to save them from life in the factory.

They spent years inside the Hell House

Then they opened foe The Who

90 degrees, outdoor, summer festivals

Them, boy's wouldn't even break a sweat.

Played each show like their lives depended on it

300 a year will take its due

They kicked The Stones ass out at Knebworth

Ask anyone who was there and they'll tell you

They hit the road doing ninety

Leave them steel mills far behind.

Ain't no good life at the Ford plant

Three guitars or a life of crime

Sold out shows and platinum records, New York
critics and redneckers

Bunch of boy's from Florida had them eating from
their hands

They got the fame and all the glory

But folks, it's still a sad story when legend
over shadows the songs and the band.

Let me tell y'all a story that more or less is
the truth

From the swamps of Northern Florida to the swamps
just north of Baton Rouge.