I was born in the Southland Twenty some odd years ago
I ran away for the first time when I was four years old

I’m a free born man
My home is on my back
I know every inch of highway
Every foot of back road
Every mile of railroad track

I got a gal in Cincinnati, got a woman in San Antone
I always love the girl next door but anyplace is home

I got me a worn out guitar, I carry an old tone sack
I hocked it about two hundred times but I always get it back

Well, you may not like my appearance, you may not like my song
You may not like the way I talk, but you like the way I’m gone