“This Country has a proud tradition of fine homemade liquor and fast cars to outrun the Feds.”
And at least one song about it...Recorded by Robert Mitchum in the 1950s.
Ballad of Thunder Road
Now let me tell the story, I can tell it all About the mountain boy who ran illegal alcohol
His daddy made the whiskey, son, he drove the load,
When his engine roared, They called the highway thunder road.
Sometimes into Ashville, sometimes Memphis town
The revenoors chased him but they couldn’t run him Down
Each time they thought they had him, his engine would explode
He’d go by like they were standin’ still on thunder Road.
[Chorus:]
And there was thunder, thunder over thunder road, Thunder was his engine, and white lightning was his Load
There was moonshine, moonshine to quench the devil’s thirst
The law they swore they’d get him, but the devil got Him first.
On the first of April, nineteen fifty-four A federal man sent word he’d better make his run no More
He said two hundred agents were coverin’ the state
Whichever road he tried to take, they’d get him sure as Fate.
Son, his daddy told him, make this run your last
Your tank is filled with hundred-proof, You’re all tuned up and gassed
Now, don’t take any chances, if you can’t get through
I’d rather have you back again than all that mountain Dew
[Chorus:]
Roarin’ out of Harlan, revving’ up his mill, He shot the gap at Cumberland,
And screamed by Maynardville
With g-men on his taillights, roadblocks up ahead The mountain boy took roads that even angels feared To tread.
Blazing’ right through Knoxville, out on Kingston pike
Then right outside of Beardon, there they made the fatal Strike
He left the road at ninety, that’s all there is to say
The devil got the moonshine and the mountain boy That day
[Chorus:]
Well, my name’s John Lee Pettimore
Same as my daddy and his daddy before
You hardly ever saw grandaddy down here
He only came to town about twice a year
He’d buy a hundred pounds of yeast and some copper line
Everybody knew that he made moonshine
Now the revenue man wanted grandaddy bad
Headed up the holler with everything he had
Before my time, but I’ve been told
He never come back from Copperhead Road
Now daddy ran the whiskey in a big block Dodge
Bought it at an auction at the Mason’s Lodge
“Johnson County Sheriff” painted on the side
Just shot a coat of primer, then he looked inside
Well, him and my uncle tore that engine down
I still remember that rumblin’ sound
And then the Sheriff came around in the middle of the night
Heard mama crying, knew something wasn’t right
He was headed down to Knoxville with the weekly load
You could smell the whiskey burnin’ down Copperhead Road
Hey!
Hey! Hey!
I volunteered for the Army on my birthday
They drafted the white trash first, around here anyway
I done two tour’s of duty in Vietnam
I came home with a brand new plan
I take the seed from Colombia and Mexico
I just plant it up the holler down Copperhead Road
And now the D.E.A’s got a chopper in the air
I wake up screaming like I’m back over there
I learnt a thing or two from Charlie, don’t you know
You better stay away from Copperhead Road
Copperhead Road
Copperhead Road
Ha! Copperhead Road