Boxcar Outlaw

The year was nineteen sixty-three, I was born in a boxcar, In Nashville, Tennessee, I never knew my momma and daddy wasn't around, All I knew was that sweet locomotive sound, I spent my first fifteen years just riding the lines, From the California redwoods, to the Georgia Pines, I didn't speak a word, I didn't know my name, All I knew was eating beans, and riding trains, I met a ringleader in New York City at age sixteen, He said I was the wildest sight he'd ever seen, He took me from my boxcar, and put me in a cage Said I was gonna be his star, had me center stage He had me juggling knives, and spitting fire, Said he was he was gonna make me rich, but he was a liar, One night I wanted an extra can of beans, And he showed just how man could get mean, He started whooping me and hurting me all around, Then I wrestled the evil bastard down to the ground, I took off his head, he didn't make a sound, I left the circus, and that ringleader was never found Here I am, back on a boxcar, happy ad a clam, Remember never trust a rich man, I don't give a damn,