muddy 'n' wild, You can't care the bloody for my unborn child. Fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well. Number nine train ain' done no harm, Number nine train take my poor baby home
when i left home An' I been out a-ramblin' round An' I never wrote a letter to my home To my home, lord, to my home An' I never wrote a letter to my home
I'm a rambler, I'm a gambler I'm a long way from home And if you don't like me You can leave me alone For it's dark and it's rainin' And the moon gives
Well, I'm gonna get you a Sally gal, I'm gonna get you a Sally Gal, I'm gonna get you a Sally gal, I'm gonna get you a Sally gal. Well, I'm just one
(Woody Guthrie) [Chorus:] This land is your land, this land is my land From California, to the New York Island From the redwood forest, to the gulf
Well I got troubles, troubles on my mind Yes, when I got those troubles, troubles on my mind Well, I'm gonna forget my troubles, leave my troubles behind
I'm out here a thousand miles from my home Walking a road other men have gone down I'm seeing a new world of people and things Hear paupers and peasants
It ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe It don't matter, anyhow And it ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe If you don't know by now When your
the deepths of the deepest black forest Where the people are a many and their hands are all empty Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters Where the home
Come you masters of war You that build all the guns You that build the death planes You that build all the bombs You that hide behind walls You that
you. Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin' ship My senses have been stripped, my hands can't feel to grip My toes too numb to step, wait only for my boot
Far between sundown's finish an' midnight's broken toll We ducked inside the doorway, thunder crashing As majestic bells of bolts struck shadows in the
I am a man of constant sorrow I've seen trouble all my days I'll say goodbye to Colorado Where I was born and partly raised. Your mother says I'm a
She's got everything she needs She's an artist, she don't look back She's got everything she needs She's an artist, she don't look back She can take
Oh the time will come up When the winds will stop And the breeze will cease to be breathin' Like the stillness in the wind 'Fore the hurricane begins
Well, I ride on a mailtrain, babe Can't buy a thrill Well, I've been up all night Leanin' on the window sill Well, if I die On top of the hill And if
unwrapped their bed roll Tuba players now rehearsal around the flagpole And the National Bank at a profit sells road maps or the soul To the old folks home
They're selling postcards of the hanging They're painting the passports brown The beauty parlor is filled with sailors The circus is in town Here comes