Lyrics:

Ol' mornin' crimson dawn
There's a creek now on the floor
Do the paupers sleep tonight?
Do the children read or write?

There's a pot a brewin'
A beat-up cup for fillin'
Now the paper is sayin'
That are polls are shiftin'

Our train's ahead
And its patrons have been so mislead
Judges play gypsy roles
Cherry pickin' while the gentleman falls, oh, oh

Achin' prophets scurry south
Tangled up in all their vows
They can hear us from the street
It's a shame we can't retreat

You see the road is seasoned
With the bows of treason
Painted wagons are gleamin'
While the dust is settlin'

Our train's ahead
And its patrons have been so mislead
Judges play gypsy roles
Cherry pickin' while the gentleman falls, oh, oh
Cherry pickin' while the gentleman falls, oh, oh

There's a pot a brewin'