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