Woke up this morning with my head in my hand Come on, children, come on The snow was falling all over the land Come on, children, come on I don't know
Hey brothers, hear me call It ain't that I had to fall Wasn't no one's fault last night When I looked up and felt the light Here's hoping you'll understand
CHORUS: I don't want a pickle Just want to ride on my motorsickle And I don't want a tickle 'Cause I'd rather ride on my motorsickle And I don't want
down to get my physical examination one day, and I walked in, I sat down, got good and drunk the night before, so I looked and felt my best when I went
Coming in from London From over the pole Flying in a big airliner Chickens flying everywhere around the plane Could we ever feel much finer? CHORUS:
I want to hop on the last train in the station Won't need to get yourself prepared When you're on that last train to glory You'll know you're reasonably
Riding on the City of New Orleans, Illinois Central Monday morning rail Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders, Three conductors and twenty-five sacks
Lonely sunshine, days come easy, Spend my time alone at rest, And if I were the last to leave here, Now would these roads be any less? Oh, I'm the last
It's the tenth of January And I still ain't had no sleep She comes waItzing in the nighttime Made of wings She is dressed up like a bandit With a hundred
