(Big John Big John)
Every mornin' at the mine you could
I am just a poor boy though my story's seldom
When the morning sun streaks across my room
Lord I'm wakened
I look out on the grave of New York City
And
Ridin' on the City of New Orleans Illinois Central Monday
Coming on strong coming on strong
I can feel the heartaches
It's knowing that your door is always open and your
Some people say I'm a no count others say I'm
It's true you have me twisted around your finger it
Two broken hearts lonely looking like houses where nobody lives
Two
And you're much more than a lover to me I
Things I learned in hobo jungle were things they never
Sometimes too much fuel can smother up the fire
And sometimes
I didn't see no sense in me just sittin' here
She would meet me in the morning on my way
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