| My hat don’t hang on the same nail too long
|
| My ears can’t stand to hear the same old song
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| I don’t leave the highway long enough
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| To bog down in the mud
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| I’ve got ramblin' fever in my blood
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| Caught this ramblin' fever long ago
|
| When I first heard a lonesome whistle blow
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| If someone said, I ever gave a damn
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| Man, they damn sure told you wrong
|
| I’ve had ramblin' fever all along
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| Ramblin' fever
|
| The kind that can’t be measured by degrees
|
| Ramblin' fever
|
| There ain’t no kind of cure for my disease
|
| There’s times that I’d like to bed down on a sofa
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| And let some pretty lady rub my back
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| And spend the early mornin' drinkin' coffee
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| Talkin' about when I’ll be comin' back
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| But I don’t let no no woman, tie me down
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| And I never get too old to get around
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| I want to die along the highway and rot away
|
| Like some old high-line pole
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| Rest this ramblin' fever in my soul
|
| Ramblin' fever
|
| The kind that can’t be measured by degrees
|
| Ramblin' fever
|
| There ain’t no kind of cure for my disease
|
| Ramblin' fever
|
| Ramblin' fever |