Aint no sweet rye whiskey in the still
Aint no sweet rye whiskey or the sniff of a thrill
It's been seven barren months
Since the last drop gotten drunk
Aint no sweet rye whiskey in the still

Aint no corn-fed chicken on the plate
Aint no corn-fed chicken or the hint of a steak
Just one lean and hungry year
Since the harvest disappeared
Aint no corn-fed chicken in the plate

The fruit has withered on the vine
The fruit has withered and soured the wine
All these dry and dusty days
Without a single drop of rain
The fruit has withered on the vine

Nothing but cold comfort in my bed
Nothing but cold comfort where I lay my head
It's been ninety seven days
Since my lover went away
Nothing but cold comfort in my bed