Song | The Big Rock Candy Mountain |
Artist | Harry McClintock |
Album | The Americana Series: The Best of Bluegrass |
One evening as the sun went down | |
And the jungle fire was burning | |
Down the track came a hobo hiking | |
And he said, \"Boys, I'm not turning” | |
“I'm headed for a land that's far away | |
Besides the crystal fountains | |
So come with me, we'll go and see | |
The Big Rock Candy Mountains” | |
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains | |
There's a land that's fair and bright | |
Where the handouts grow on bushes | |
And you sleep out every night | |
Where the boxcars all are empty | |
And the sun shines every day | |
And the birds and the bees | |
And the cigarette trees | |
The lemonade springs | |
Where the bluebird sings | |
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains | |
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains | |
All the cops have wooden legs | |
And the bulldogs all have rubber teeth | |
And the hens lay soft-boiled eggs | |
The farmers' trees are full of fruit | |
And the barns are full of hay | |
Oh, I'm bound to go | |
Where there ain't no snow | |
Where the rain don't fall | |
The winds don't blow | |
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains | |
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains | |
You never change your socks | |
And the little streams of alcohol | |
Come trickling down the rocks | |
The brakemen have to tip their hats | |
And the railway bulls are blind | |
There's a lake of stew | |
And of whiskey too | |
You can paddle all around it | |
In a big canoe | |
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains | |
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains | |
The jails are made of tin | |
And you can walk right out again | |
As soon as you are in | |
There ain't no short-handled shovels | |
No axes, saws nor picks | |
I'm goin' to stay | |
Where you sleep all day | |
Where they hung the jerk | |
That invented work | |
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains | |
I'll see you all this coming fall | |
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains |
One evening as the sun went down | |
And the jungle fire was burning | |
Down the track came a hobo hiking | |
And he said, " Boys, I' m not turning" | |
" I' m headed for a land that' s far away | |
Besides the crystal fountains | |
So come with me, we' ll go and see | |
The Big Rock Candy Mountains" | |
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains | |
There' s a land that' s fair and bright | |
Where the handouts grow on bushes | |
And you sleep out every night | |
Where the boxcars all are empty | |
And the sun shines every day | |
And the birds and the bees | |
And the cigarette trees | |
The lemonade springs | |
Where the bluebird sings | |
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains | |
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains | |
All the cops have wooden legs | |
And the bulldogs all have rubber teeth | |
And the hens lay softboiled eggs | |
The farmers' trees are full of fruit | |
And the barns are full of hay | |
Oh, I' m bound to go | |
Where there ain' t no snow | |
Where the rain don' t fall | |
The winds don' t blow | |
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains | |
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains | |
You never change your socks | |
And the little streams of alcohol | |
Come trickling down the rocks | |
The brakemen have to tip their hats | |
And the railway bulls are blind | |
There' s a lake of stew | |
And of whiskey too | |
You can paddle all around it | |
In a big canoe | |
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains | |
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains | |
The jails are made of tin | |
And you can walk right out again | |
As soon as you are in | |
There ain' t no shorthandled shovels | |
No axes, saws nor picks | |
I' m goin' to stay | |
Where you sleep all day | |
Where they hung the jerk | |
That invented work | |
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains | |
I' ll see you all this coming fall | |
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains |