YOU CAN’T OUTRUN McCRAE

contemporary country, Appalachian, cinematic

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Written by Brian Ketchum

[Verse 1]

Six-foot-four in a sweat-stained Stetson,
Three hundred pounds if he weighed an ounce,
Big cigar burning from the corner of his mouth,
When McCrae walked in, trouble walked out.
Never talked loud, never had to pretend,
Had an old Colt riding low on his hip.
Folks said the devil once crossed his path—
And backed up slow when McCrae struck a match.

[Chorus]

You can run from the law,
You can run from your name,
You can cross that county line
With the blue lights in your wake.
You can hide in these mountains,
Where the hollers twist away—
But sooner or later, son,
You can’t outrun McCrae.

[Verse 2]

Mayor’s boy got drunk one Saturday night,
Put a good man down in a parking-lot fight.
Mayor said, “Harlan, you know who he is.”
McCrae blew smoke and said, “Yeah. Yours, I guess.”
Slapped the cuffs on, never blinked an eye,
Said, “Your last name don’t make the law step aside.”
By Sunday morning everybody knew—
McCrae’s kind of justice wore one size of shoe.

[Chorus]

[Verse 3]

One cold December, Route 19,
Young mama stranded with two mouths to feed.
Flat tire, empty tank, snow coming down,
McCrae changed the tire without making a sound.
Christmas morning, toys covered her floor,
Groceries stacked by the kitchen door.
Nobody saw who left ’em that way—
Just cigar ash in the snow by the gate.

[Bridge]

He’d tell his deputies, “That star ain’t a crown.
You don’t get bigger by pushing folks down.
If they fear that badge more than they trust your name,
Take the damn thing off—you’ve brought it shame.”

The badge never made the man,
That’s something Harlan always had—
McCrae gave weight to the badge.

[Final Chorus]

You can run from the law,
You can run from your name,
You can cross that county line
With the blue lights in your wake.
But if you’re weak or you’re hurting,
He’d stand between you and the grave.
Bad men feared him—
Good folks knew his name.

You can hide in these mountains,
Where the hollers twist away—
But sooner or later, son,
You can’t outrun McCrae.

[Outro]

They retired his badge when Harlan died,
Hung his Stetson at the courthouse inside.
There’s an old cigar box underneath his name,
And one little sign that simply says:

“Justice don’t change.”

Some swear on cold nights
When trouble comes that way,
You can smell cigar smoke…

Before anybody says McCrae.

2603/7500

YOU CAN’T OUTRUN McCRAE Written by Brian Ketchum [Verse 1] Six-foot-four in a sweat-stained Stetson, Three hundred pounds if he weighed an ounce, Big cigar burning from the corner of his mouth, When McCrae walked in, trouble walked out. Never talked loud, never had to pretend, Had an old Colt riding low on his hip. Folks said the devil once crossed his path— And backed up slow when McCrae struck a match. [Chorus] You can run from the law, You can run from your name, You can cross that county line With the blue lights in your wake. You can hide in these mountains, Where the hollers twist away— But sooner or later, son, You can’t outrun McCrae. [Verse 2] Mayor’s boy got drunk one Saturday night, Put a good man down in a parking-lot fight. Mayor said, “Harlan, you know who he is.” McCrae blew smoke and said, “Yeah. Yours, I guess.” Slapped the cuffs on, never blinked an eye, Said, “Your last name don’t make the law step aside.” By Sunday morning everybody knew— McCrae’s kind of justice wore one size of shoe. [Chorus] You can run from the law, You can run from your name, You can cross that county line With the blue lights in your wake. You can hide in these mountains, Where the hollers twist away— But sooner or later, son, You can’t outrun McCrae. [Verse 3] One cold December, Route 19, Young mama stranded with two mouths to feed. Flat tire, empty tank, snow coming down, McCrae changed the tire without making a sound. Christmas morning, toys covered her floor, Groceries stacked by the kitchen door. Nobody saw who left ’em that way— Just cigar ash in the snow by the gate. [Bridge] He’d tell his deputies, “That star ain’t a crown. You don’t get bigger by pushing folks down. If they fear that badge more than they trust your name, Take the damn thing off—you’ve brought it shame.” The badge never made the man, That’s something Harlan always had— McCrae gave weight to the badge. [Final Chorus] You can run from the law, You can run from your name, You can cross that county line With the blue lights in your wake. But if you’re weak or you’re hurting, He’d stand between you and the grave. Bad men feared him— Good folks knew his name. You can hide in these mountains, Where the hollers twist away— But sooner or later, son, You can’t outrun McCrae. [Outro] They retired his badge when Harlan died, Hung his Stetson at the courthouse inside. There’s an old cigar box underneath his name, And one little sign that simply says: “Justice don’t change.” Some swear on cold nights When trouble comes that way, You can smell cigar smoke… Before anybody says McCrae.

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