Folsom Prison Blues

I hear the train a-comin’, it’s rollin’ ‘round the bend.

And I ain’t seen the sunshine since I don’t know when.

I’m stuck at Folsom prison and time keeps dragin’ on.

But that train keeps rollin’ on down to San Antone.

When I was just a baby my mama told me: ”Son,

always be a good boy; don’t ever play with guns!”

But I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die.

When I hear that whistle blowin’, I hang my head and cry.

I bet there’s rich folks eatin’ in a fancy dining car.

They’re prob’ly drinkin’ coffee and smokin’ big cigars.

But I know I had it comin’, I know I can’t be free.

But those people keep a-movin’, and that’s what tortures me.

Well, if they freed me from this prison, if that railroad train was mine,

I bet I’d move on over a little farther down the line.

Far from Folsom prison, that’s where I want to stay.

And I’d let that lonesome whistle blow my blues away.

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A         A           A            A           E           E           E           E

B7       B7        B7         B7         E           E           E           E