| Pullin' away, he’s pullin away
|
| Now his wagons are loaded, he’s pullin' away
|
| Hard luck is the fortune of all woman kind
|
| They’re always controlled. |
| They’re always confined
|
| Controlled by their parents until they are wives
|
| Then slaves of their husbands the rest of their lives
|
| I once knew a girl and her story was sad
|
| She always was courted by the wagoner lad
|
| He courted her truly by night and by day
|
| Now his wagons are loaded. |
| He’s pullin' away
|
| Pullin' away, he’s pullin away
|
| Now his wagons are loaded, he’s pullin' away
|
| Your parents don’t like me. |
| They think I’m too poor
|
| They think I’m not worth to enter your door
|
| Hard livin’s my pleasure. |
| My money’s my own and if they don’t like me,
|
| they can leave me alone
|
| Long is the road. |
| Dark is the sky. |
| Look over your shoulder. |
| He’s wavin' goodbye
|
| My wagon is loaded. |
| My whip needs a mend
|
| So sit down here by me for as long as you can
|
| My wagons are loaded. |
| My whip’s in my hand
|
| So, fare thee well, darlin', I’m leavin' this land
|
| Pullin' away, he’s pullin away
|
| Now his wagons are loaded, he’s pullin' away |