Boots & Sand

    I was travelling, 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