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Well, you're too old to wrangle or ride in the swing |
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You beat the triangle and you curse everything |
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Now if dirt were a kingdom, well you would be king |
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On the Goodnight trail, on the Loving trail |
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Our old woman's lonesome tonight |
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And your French harp is crying just like a lone bawling calf |
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Well, it's a wonder the wind don't tear off your skin |
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Get in there and blow out the light |
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Now the cook fire's out, the coffee's all gone |
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Now the old boys are up and they're raising the dawn |
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You're sitting there, you are lost in a song |
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On the Goodnight trail, on the Loving trail |
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Our old woman is lonesome tonight |
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Now your French harp is crying just like a lone bawling calf |
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It's a wonder the wind don't tear off your skin |
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Get in there and blow out the light |
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Ah, with your snake oils, your herbs and your liniment too |
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You can do anything that a doctor can do |
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Well, except find a cure for your own goddam stew |
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On the Goodnight trail, on the loving trail |
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Our old woman is lonesome tonight |
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And your French harp is crying like a lone bawling calf |
|
It's a wonder the wind don't tear off your skin |
|
Get in there and blow out the light |
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Some day I know that I'll be just the same |
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I'll be wearing an apron instead of a name |
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Now no one can change it, no one's to blame |
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Cause the desert's a book writ in lizards and sage |
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You know, it's easy to look just like an old torn out page |
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You're all faded and cracked with the colors of age |
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|
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On the Goodnight Trail, on the Loving Trail |
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Our old woman is lonesome tonight |
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And your French harp is crying like a lone bawling calf |
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It's a wonder the wind don't tear off your skin |
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Go in there and blow out the light |
