| I can’t hold it on the road
|
| When you’re sitting right beside me
|
| And I’m drunk out of my mind
|
| Merely from the fact
|
| That you are here
|
| And I have not been known
|
| As the Saint of San Joaquin
|
| And I’d just as soon right now
|
| Pull on over to the
|
| Side of the road to
|
| Prove I’m not so mean
|
| La da da da da…
|
| July, you’re a woman
|
| More than anyone
|
| I’ve ever known
|
| And I can’t hold my eyes on
|
| The white line out before me
|
| When your hand is on my collar
|
| And you’re talking in my ear
|
| Why, I once ran around with
|
| A gypsy girl named Shannon
|
| A daughter of the devil
|
| It is strange that I
|
| Should mention that to you
|
| I haven’t thought of her for years
|
| I can’t hold it on the road
|
| When you’re sitting right beside me
|
| And I’m drunk out of my mind
|
| Merely from the fact
|
| That you are here
|
| And I have not been known
|
| As the Saint of San Joaquin
|
| But I’d just as soon right now
|
| Pull on over to the
|
| Side of the road to
|
| Prove I’m not so mean
|
| La da da da da… |