Lyrics:

It was a cold and cruel evening sneaking up on Speedy Creek
I found myself sleeping 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 ole boy about twice the size of me
He asked me for my name and where I dwell
I just looked him in the eye and sang Blue Yodel No. 9
He didn't catch the reference, I could tell
Then the old, familiar click in the handcuffs binding grip
Should have left me in the snow, where I laid
He just laughed and touched his gun and turned to me and he 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 me 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