Lyrics Box 10

Well outta Southern Illinois
Come a down-home country boy
He’s gonna make it in the city
Playin’ guitar in the studio
Oh well, he hadn’t been there an hour
When he met a Broadway flow’r
You know she took him for his money
And she left him in a cheap hotel
Oh well, it’s easy for you to see
That that country boy is me
Say and how’m I gonna ever break the news to the folks back home?
Well, I was gonna be a great success
Things sure ended up a mess
But in the process I got messed up to
Hello, mama and dad I had to call collect
Cause I ain’t got a cent to my name
Well, I’m sleepin’ in a hotel doorway
And tonight they say it’s gonna rain
And if you’d only send me some money
I’ll be back on my feet again
Send it in care of the Sunday Mission
Box Number Ten
Well, back in Southern Illinois
They’re still worryin” 'bout their boy
But this boy’s goin’ home soon’s he gets the fare
Because as soon as I got my bread
I got a pipe upside my head
You know they took me in an alley
Took my money and my guitar too
(Refrão)