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I was born in the wagon of a travellin' show |
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My mama used to dance for the money they'd throw |
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Papa would do whatever he could |
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Preach a little gospel, sell a couple bottles of |
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Doctor Good |
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Gypsys, tramps, and thieves |
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We'd hear it from the people of the town |
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They'd call us Gypsys, tramps, and thieves |
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But every night all the men would come around |
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And lay their money down |
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Picked up a boy just south of |
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Mobile Gave him a ride, filled him with a hot meal I was sixteen, he was twenty-one |
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Rode with us to Memphis |
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And papa woulda shot him if he knew what he'd done |
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I never had schoolin' but he taught me well |
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With his smooth southern style |
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Three months later I'm a gal in trouble |
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And I haven't seen him for a while, uh-huh I haven't seen him for a while, uh-huh |
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She was born in the wagon of a travellin' show |
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Her mama had to dance for the money they'd throw |
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Grandpa'd do whatever he could |
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Preach a little gospel, sell a couple bottles of |
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Doctor Good |
