The Biscuit King of Appalachia - A Bluegrass and Country Ballad

Down past the ridge where the white pines lean, there’s a little town with a county fair scene. Every fall when the church bells ring, folks crowd around for the Biscuit King. Twelve long years he’s worn that crown, no hungry soul has taken him down. Gravy on the table, sweet tea cold, and old Earl Boone still sits there bold.