Promies Land Songtext
von Chuck Berry
Promies Land Songtext
I left my home in Norfolk Virginia, California on my mind
I straddled that Greyhound and rolled in into Raleigh and all across Carolina
We stopped in Charlotte and bypassed Rock Hill, and we never was a minute late
We was 90 miles out of Atlanta by sundown rollin′ out of Georgia state
We had motor trouble it turned into a struggle half way across Alabam'
And that ′hound broke down and left us all stranded in downtown Birmingham
Right away, I bought me a through train ticket, ridin' cross Mississippi clean
And I was on that midnight flier out of Birmingham, smoking into New Orleans
Somebody help me get out of Louisiana just help me get to Houston town
There are people there who care a little 'bout me, and they won′t let the poor boy down
Sure as you′re born, they bought me a silk suit, put luggage in my hands
And I woke up high over Albuquerque on a jet to the promised land
Workin' on a T-bone steak à la carte, flying over to the Golden State
Oh, when the pilot told me in thirteen minutes, we′d be headin' in the terminal gate
Swing low chariot, come down easy, taxi to the terminal zone
Cut your engines, cool your wings, and 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′ and the poor boy's on the line
I straddled that Greyhound and rolled in into Raleigh and all across Carolina
We stopped in Charlotte and bypassed Rock Hill, and we never was a minute late
We was 90 miles out of Atlanta by sundown rollin′ out of Georgia state
We had motor trouble it turned into a struggle half way across Alabam'
And that ′hound broke down and left us all stranded in downtown Birmingham
Right away, I bought me a through train ticket, ridin' cross Mississippi clean
And I was on that midnight flier out of Birmingham, smoking into New Orleans
Somebody help me get out of Louisiana just help me get to Houston town
There are people there who care a little 'bout me, and they won′t let the poor boy down
Sure as you′re born, they bought me a silk suit, put luggage in my hands
And I woke up high over Albuquerque on a jet to the promised land
Workin' on a T-bone steak à la carte, flying over to the Golden State
Oh, when the pilot told me in thirteen minutes, we′d be headin' in the terminal gate
Swing low chariot, come down easy, taxi to the terminal zone
Cut your engines, cool your wings, and 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′ and the poor boy's on the line
Writer(s): Chuck Berry Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
