| Some people say I’m a no 'count
|
| Others say I’m no good
|
| But I’m just a nat’ral born travellin' man
|
| Doin' what I think should, oh yeah
|
| Doin' what I think should
|
| When I was a little baby my mama said, hey son
|
| Travel where you will and grow to be a man
|
| But sing what must be sung, poor boy
|
| Sing what must be sung
|
| And I don’t give a damn about a greenback dollar
|
| I spend it fast as I can
|
| For a wailing song and a good guitar
|
| The only things that I understand, poor boy
|
| The only things that I understand
|
| When I was a little baby my mama said, hey son
|
| Travel where you will and grow to be a man
|
| But sing what must be sung, poor boy
|
| Sing what must be sung
|
| Now that I’m a grown man
|
| I’ve travelled here and there
|
| I found that a jug of brandy and a song
|
| Are the only ones who care, poor boy
|
| The only ones who care
|
| When I was a little baby my mama said, hey son
|
| Travel where you will and grow to be a man
|
| But sing what must be sung, poor boy
|
| Sing what must be sung |