Unlike most of the songs nowadays that are being written uptown 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 were ridin' down the line
Fixin' everybody's troubles, everybody's 'cept mine
Someone must've told em that I was doin' fine
Oh, you five and ten cent women there's nothin' in your heads
I got a real gal I'm in love with, Lord, I'll love her till I'm dead
Go away from my door and my window too right now
Lord, I ain't goin' down to no racetrack to 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, on me
Well, look it here, buddy, you want to be like me
Pull your your six-shooter and rob every bank you see
Tell the judge I said it was alright, yeah
