Lyrics:

Granddaddy died young
In the Yazoo heat
Papa tried his whole life
To make ends meet

My pride couldn't take it
I cussed the boss, I had to run
With a dolla' in my pocket
I hit Highway 61

I wonder where
Gonna lay my head
Some hollow log
Bound to be my bed

Nothin' but the clothes on my back
But the worries on my mind weigh like a ton
With a dolla' in my pocket
I hit Highway 61

I hear everybody talkin'
'Bout Chicago
Say there's plenty jobs up there
But the winters mighty cold

Rather be freezin'
Than hangin' from the trees in the Mississippi sun
With a dolla' in my pocket
I hit Highway 61

I musta lost my mind
Couldn't hold my tongue
Them words I shouted
Will get a black man hung

Can't take 'em back
I had to run
With a dolla' in my pocket
I hit Highway 61