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Song To Woody |
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I'm out here a thousand miles from my home, |
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Walkin' a road other men have gone down. |
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I'm seein' your world of people and things, |
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Your paupers and peasants and princes and kings. |
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Hey, hey Woody Guthrie, I wrote you a song |
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'Bout a funny ol' world that's a-comin' along. |
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Seems sick an' it's hungry, it's tired an' it's torn, |
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It looks like it's a-dyin' an' it's hardly been born. |
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Hey, Woody Guthrie, but I know that you know |
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All the things that I'm a-sayin' an' a-many times more. |
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I'm a-singin' you the song, but I can't sing enough, |
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'Cause there's not many men that done the things that you've done. |
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Here's to Cisco an' Sonny an' Leadbelly too, |
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An' to all the good people that traveled with you. |
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Here's to the hearts and the hands of the men |
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That come with the dust and are gone with the wind. |
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I'm a-leaving' tomorrow, but I could leave today, |
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Somewhere down the road someday. |
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The very last thing that I'd want to do |
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Is to say I've been hittin' some hard travelin' too. |
