It was a cold and cruel evening
Sneaking up on Speedy Creek
Found myself asleepin' in the snow
For one or two odd reasons
I ain't too proud to repeat
For now we'll say I had no place to go
There was a rustle and a humming
Just hauling down the street
I drew myself up from my icy bed
Painted on that shiny car the letters 'RCM and P'
I can feel a little aching in my head
And then out jumps this old boy
About twice the size of me
He asked me for my name and where I dwelt
I just looked him in the eye
And sang 'Blue Yodel Number 9'
He didn't catch the reference, I could tell
Then the old, familiar click
and the handcuffs bind and grip
Should have left me in the snow, where I laid
He just laughed and touched his gun
And turned to me and said
Son, I bet you don't own a damn thing
To your name
Well, I got my health
My John B Stetson
Got a bottle full of baby's bluebird wine
And I left my stash
Somewhere down in Preston
Along with thirteen silver dollars and my mind
Well, I got my health
My John B Stetson
Got a bottle full of baby's bluebird wine
And I left my stash
Somewhere down in Preston
Along with thirteen silver dollars and my mind