Artist/Band:
Chuck Berry
Lyrics for Song: Promised Land
Lyrics for Album: Ultimate [2007]
Video sound track.
______________________________________________________________
[Promised Land].....
I left my home in Norfolk, Virginia,
California on my mind.
Straddled that Greyhound, rode 'im into Raleigh,
On across Caroline.
Stopped in Charlotte, bypassed Rock Hill,
Never was a minute late.
We were ninety miles out of Atlanta by sundown,
Rollin' outa' Georgia State.
We had a little trouble.....turned into a struggle,
Half way across Alabam',
An' the 'hound broke down and left us stranded,
In down-town, Birmin'ham........
Right away, I bought me a through train ticket,
Ridin' 'cross Mississippi, clean.
An' I was on that midnight flyer outa Birmin'ham,
Smokin' inta New Orlean'...
Somebody, help me, get outa Lou'siana,
Or help me get t' Houston town.
'Cos there are people right there, who care a little 'bout me,
And they.. won't let the poor boy down.
Right as you're born, they bought me a silk suit,
Put luggage in my hand,
An' I woke up high over Albuquerque,
On a jet to, The Promised Land.....[hOw..]........
______________________________________________________________
______________________________________________________________
Audio sound track
______________________________________________________________
I left my home in Norfolk, Virginia,
California on my mind.
I straddled that Greyhound, and rode 'im into Raleigh,
An' on across Caroline.
We stopped at Charlotte, but bypassed Rock Hill,
We never was a minute late.
We was ninety miles out of Atlanta by sundown,
Rollin' outa' Georgia State.
We had motor trouble, that turned into a struggle,
Half way across Alabam',
An' that 'hound broke down an' left us all stranded,
In down-town, Birmin'ham........
Right away, I bought me a through train ticket,
Ridin' 'cross Mississippi, clean.
An' I was on that midnight flyer, outa Birmin'ham,
Smokin' inta New Orlean'...
Somebody, help me get outa Lou'siana,
Jus' help me get t' Houston town.
There are people there, who care a little 'bout me,
An' they won't let the poor boy down.
Sure as you're born, they bought me a silk suit,
Put luggage in my hand,
An' I woke up high over Albuquerque,
On a jet to The Promised Land........
Workin' on a t-bone steak, A la carte,
Flyin' over to the golden state,
When the pilot told us...In thirteen minutes,
He would set us at the terminal gate.
Swing low, chariot, come down easy,
Taxi to the terminal zone.
Cut your engines, an' cool your wings,
An' let me make it to the telephone.
Los Angeles...Give me Norfolk, Virginia,
Tidewater.. Four, Ten, O, Nine.
Tell the folks back home...This is....The Promised Land callin',
An', The Poor Boy, is on the line.
|
