I got in a little trouble   At the county seat   Lord, they put me in the jail house   For loafin' on the street   Well, the judge said guilty   He made his point   He said, "Forty five dollars   Or thirty days in the joint"      "That'll be cash on the barrelhead, hon   You can take your choice   You're twenty one   No money down   No credit plan   No time to chase you   'Cause I'm a busy man"      I found a telephone number   On a laundry slip   I had a good, hardy jailor   With a six gun hip   He let me call long distance   She said, "Number, please"   An' just as soon as I told her   She shouted back at me      Said, "That'll be cash on the barrelhead, hon   Not part, not half   But the entire sum   No money down   No credit line   'Cause a little boy tells me   You're the travelin' kind"      Thirty days in the jail house   Four days on the road   I was feelin' mighty hungry   My feet, a heavy load   I saw a Greyhound comin'   Stuck out my thumb   As soon as I was seated   The driver caught my arm      Said, "That'll be cash on the barrelhead, hon   This old, gray dog gets paid to run   When the engine starts   An' the wheels will roll   Give me cash on the barrelhead   I take you down the road   Cash on the barrelhead   I take you down the road"