Oh, when I left for Wichita
The weather was a-killin' me
And when I left Wichita
The weather was a-killin' me
Well, my poppa said, "Son
Watch out, you might catch that old TB."

When I landed in West Memphis
I sure did not have a dime
When I landed in West Memphis
I sure didn't have a dime
Operator said, "Son
Boy, you ain't no friend of mine."

Operator, operator
Let that poor boy ride
Operator, operator, oh
Let that poor boy ride
Can't you see me on your road
Lord, I'm singing down by the side

I'm going down to Louisiana, oh
Mamma, where that red-green river runs
I'm going down to Louisiana
Mamma, where that red-green river runs, yes
You can write and tell my mamma
My ramblin' days have just begun