I was traveling, boots and sand
High bound for miracle land
Met a man called Buckingham
Said, “Joe, won’t you join our band?”

Nickel jangled in the jukebox
Bird of Nashville sang … wooo

So we carried on a long, long road
To a place, where we’ve been told
all your records turn to gold
Birth land of rock-and-roll

As we reached the border
seven sheriffs arrived (seven sheriffs turn-up)
Me and my girl, are saddled outside

(oh, who are you?)

“Is your name this?”
I guess it is
“You’re on our no-song list!”
Oh no, sir, no! This can’t be so

So they strung us to a friendly bird
flew us back to the lower world
As we reached the morning light
fame came overnight

It’s a strange, strange thing
Whatever songs you had (whatever songs you write)
Some called good
some called bad

Now I’m back on the long long road
One bag, and a song I wrote
A little prayer in my hand
Just me, boots and sand