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Well it's three eggs up on whiskey toast |
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And home fries on the side |
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You wash it down with the truckstop coffee |
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That burns up your inside |
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It was a canyon, Colorado diner |
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A little waitress I did love |
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Well we sat in the back 'neath the old stuffed bear |
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And a worn out Navajo rug. |
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Well, Old Jack, the boss, he closed at six |
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And it's, 'Katie bar the door'. |
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She'd pull down that Navajo rug |
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And spread it on the floor, |
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Hey, I saw lightning in the sacred mountains |
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Saw the dance of the turtle doves |
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When I was lying next to Katie |
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On that old Navajo rug. |
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Ai-yi-yi, Katie |
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Shades of red and blue |
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Ai-yi-yi, Katie |
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Whatever became of the Navajo rug and you? |
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Katie |
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Well I saw old Jack about a year ago |
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He said the place burned to the ground |
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And all he'd saved was an old bear tooth, |
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And Katie she left town |
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"Ah but Katie, she got her souvenir too..." |
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Jack spat out a 'bacco plug |
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He said, "You shoulda seen her a-runnin' through the smoke |
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A haulin' that Navajo rug." |
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Ai-yi-yi, Katie |
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Shades of red and blue |
|
Ai-yi-yi, Katie |
|
Whatever became of the Navajo rug and you? |
|
Katie |
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So every time I cross the sacred mountains |
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And lightning breaks above |
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It always takes me back in time |
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To my long lost Katie Love |
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Ah but everything keeps a movin' |
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And everybody's on the go |
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Well you don't find things that last anymore |
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Like a double woven Navajo. |
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Ai-yi-yi, Katie |
|
Shades of red and blue |
|
Ai-yi-yi, Katie |
|
Whatever became of the Navajo rug and you |
|
Katie |
|
Shades of red and blue |
|
Ai-yi-yi, Katie |
|
Whatever became of the Navajo rug and you |
|
Katie |
