| If I had listened to my sweet old mother
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| I’d be right in my Southern home
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| But instead, I had a hard, hard head
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| So I started out to roam
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| Now I’ve traveled north, south, east and west
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| No comfort have I found
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| Well I’ve got my luggage all packed up
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| And again I am down South bound
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| When I get back, my folks will meet me with outstretched arms
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| Lord, when I get back, my folks will meet me with outstretched arms
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| My father and mother, they’ll protect and keep me from all harm
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| My mother’s old, and her hair is turning gray
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| Lord, my poor mother’s old, and her hair is turning gray
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| And it would break her heart to see me living this way
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| Now there’s an old saying, «It never rains unless it pours»
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| I say there’s an old saying, «It never rains unless it pours»
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| But all will be sunshine, when I reach those good old sunny shores
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| the train, Northern Yard
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| the train, Northern Yard
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| I’m going back down South, if I have to |