Lyrics:

Getaway, getaway, getaway, getaway, Poor John

John Hardy was a fightin' man, carried a razor ev'ry day
He killed a man in Mobile town
You ought to see my Johnny get away
Ought to see my Johnny

Getaway, getaway, getaway, getaway, Poor John

John Hardy was standin' at the bar, so drunk he could not see
Along came a man with a warrant in his hand
Crying, 'Johnny boy, why don't you come with me?
Johnny boy, why don't you come with me?'

John Hardy had a pretty little gal, kept her dressed in blue
He saw her in the hangin' crowd
Cryin', 'Johnny boy, I'll be true to you. Johnny boy, I'll be true to you
True to you. True to you. True to you. Poor, John.'

I've been to the East and I've been to the West, been this whole world 'round. I've been to the North and I lived in the South
This will be my buryin' ground. This will be my buryin' ground

I've been this wide world over
Been this whole world 'round
Been to the river and I've been baptized
Take me to my buryin' ground
Getaway, getaway, getaway