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Well thousands of folks back east, they say,
Are leaving home most every day;
And they're beating the hot, old, dusty way to the California line.
Across the desert sands they roll,
A-getting' out of that old Dust Bowl.
And they think they're going to a sugar bowl,
And here is what they find.
The police at the port of entry say,
"You're number fourteen thousand for today."

Chorus
If you ain't got the do-re-mi, boys,
If you ain't got the do-re-mi,
Well, you'd better go back to beatiful Texas,
Oklahoma, Georgia, Kansas, Tennessee.
California is a Garden of Eden,
It's a paradise to live in or see,
But, believe it or not, you won't find it so hot,
If you ain't got the do-re-mi.

Well, if you want to buy you a home or farm,
That deal nobody harm;
Or take your vacations by the mountains or the sea,
Don't swap your old cow for a car,
You'd better stay right where you are.
Well, you'd better take this little tip from me,
Because I look through the want ads every day,
And the headlines on the paper always say:

(Chorus)

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