It was a cold and cruel evening Sneaking up on Speedy Creek Found myself asleep and in the snow One or two odd reasons I ain't too proud to repeat For now we'll say I had no place to go There was a rustle and a humming Just hauling down the street I drew myself up from my icy bed Painted on that shiny car the letters 'RCM and P' I can feel a little aching in my head
And then out jumps this old boy About twice the size of me He asked me for my name and where I dwell I just looked him in the eye And sang 'Blue Yodel Number 9' He didn't catch the reference, I could tell
Then the old, familiar click In the handcuffs bind and grip Should have left me in the snow, where I laid
He just laughed and touched his gun And turned to me and he said Son, I bet you don't own a damn thing To your name
Well, I got my health My John B Stetson Got a bottle full of baby's bluebird wine And I left my stash Somewhere down in Preston Along with thirteen silver dollars and my mind
Well, I got my health My John B Stetson Got me a bottle full of baby's bluebird wine And I left my stash Somewhere down in Preston Along with thirteen silver dollars and my mindTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
