| Folks in Nashville slammed the door
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| Said we don’t want you anymore
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| Find your own way down the road
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| Pack your fiddle and your guitar
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| Take a train or take a car
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| Find someone else to keep you from the cold
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| Rollin' and ramblin'
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| Women loved him half to death
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| He sang with whiskey on his breath
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| His heart broke like a child’s
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| Rollin' and ramblin'
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| The sun has set out on the trail
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| The hobo’s drifted up the rail
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| He’s taken his last ride
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| Oh, he always sang the blues
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| Like it was all he ever knew
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| He didn’t sing at all that night
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| He was pale and as he dozed
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| He didn’t know his time had closed
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| Slumped in the back seat to the right
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| Rollin' and ramblin'
|
| Women loved him half to death
|
| He sang with whiskey on his breath
|
| His heart broke like a child’s
|
| Rollin' and ramblin'
|
| The sun has set out on the trail
|
| The hobo’s drifted up the rail
|
| He’s taken his last ride
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| So they send him on night train South
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| Through the cities and the rural routes
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| Just one more place to go Ah, the whistle sang the bluest note
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| Like it came from his own throat
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| Moanin' sad and cryin' low
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| Rollin' and ramblin'
|
| Women loved him half to death
|
| He sang with whiskey on his breath
|
| His heart broke like a child’s
|
| Rollin' and ramblin'
|
| The sun has set out on the trail |