Unlike most of the songs nowadays that have been written up in Tin Pan Alley
That's where most of the folk songs come from nowadays
This, this is a song, this wasn't written up there
This was written somewhere down in the United States

Well, the Lone Ranger and Tonto
They are ridin' down the line
Fixin' everybody's troubles
Everybody's except mine
Someone musta told them that I was doin' fine

Oh, you five and ten cent women
With nothin' in your heads
I got a real gal I'm lovin'
And Lord, I'll love her 'til I'm dead
Go away from my door and my window, too
Right now

Lord, I ain't goin' down to no race track
See no sports car run
I don't have no sports car
And I don't even care to have one
I can walk anytime around the block

Well, the wind keeps a-blowin' me
Up and down the street
With my hat in my hand
And my boots on my feet
Watch out so you don't step on me

Well, look it here buddy
You want to be like me?
Pull out your six-shooter
And rob every bank you can see
Tell the judge I said it was all right
Yes
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