| Well he packed up his suitcase
|
| 'cause the deal gone down
|
| She was slipping on her stockings
|
| Lord it made the sweetest sound
|
| There was a baby in the reeds
|
| Along the river outside of town
|
| As he wound his pocket watch
|
| To set time spinnin' 'em all around
|
| Wasn’t long they’d be forgetting
|
| This old rainy Texas day
|
| Little fella wasn’t meant
|
| For this old world anyway
|
| Gambling and whoring
|
| Hiding from plain view
|
| Tell me which one of us rounders
|
| Would you trust this poor child to
|
| You just roll on cold river
|
| Wash little moses down
|
| We’ve got business to attend to
|
| In Chicago Town
|
| In Chicago Town
|
| Well they rolled out of Austin
|
| On some kind of cattle train
|
| She’d been with him for a year
|
| Didn’t know his second name
|
| He worked the small towns hustling nine ball
|
| She hooked the truck stops too
|
| They were trying to make Chicago
|
| Before the winter come blowing through
|
| Some trucker sprang a leak
|
| In California they supposed
|
| Started working Arizona
|
| Lord she missed the bloody rose
|
| They rambled through the southwest
|
| Making money and making time
|
| But they never could find no help
|
| Not a doctor, not that kind
|
| You just roll on cold river
|
| Wash little moses down
|
| We’ve got business to attend to
|
| In Chicago Town
|
| In Chicago Town
|
| Some women love their babies
|
| Some women won’t have one
|
| Some Texas woman found him
|
| And we’re still on the run
|
| The kind of life we’re living
|
| He’d only slow us down
|
| Ain’t good for nothing anyway
|
| Just rambling town to town
|
| You just roll on cold river
|
| Wash little moses down
|
| We’ve got business to attend to
|
| In Chicago Town
|
| In Chicago Town
|
| Well he unpacked his suitcase
|
| She pulled her stockings down
|
| Dreaming up a pool hall
|
| And shooting up a round
|
| She thought about tomorrow
|
| When the money rolled around
|
| That night they slept like babies
|
| In Chicago Town |