| In the early mornin' rain
|
| With a dollar in my hand
|
| And an aching in my heart
|
| And my -pockets full of sand
|
| I’m a long ways from home
|
| And I missed my loved one so
|
| In the early mornin' rain
|
| With no place to go
|
| Out on runway number nine
|
| Big 707 set to go
|
| Well I’m out here on the grass
|
| Where the pavement never grows
|
| Where the liquor tasted good
|
| And the women all were fast
|
| There she goes my friend
|
| She’s rolling out at last
|
| Hear the mighty engines roar
|
| See the silver wing on high
|
| She’s away and westward bound
|
| For above the clouds she flies
|
| Where the mornin' rain don’t fall
|
| And the sun always shines
|
| She’ll be flying over my home
|
| In about three hours time
|
| This ol' airport’s got me down
|
| It’s no earthly good to me
|
| 'Cause I’m stuck here on the ground
|
| Cold and drunk as I might be
|
| Can’t jump a jet plane
|
| Like you can a freight train
|
| So I best be on my way
|
| In the early mornin' rain
|
| So I best be on my way
|
| In the early mornin' rain
|
| So I best be on my way
|
| In the early mornin' rain |