"Promised Land" lyrics
(originally by Chuck Berry)
I left my home in Norfolk, Virginia, California on my mind
I straddled that Greyhound and rode him into Raleigh and on across Caroline
We stopped in Charlotte, we bypassed Rock Hill, we never was a minute late
We was ninety miles out of Atlanta by sundown rollin' out of Georgia State
We had motor trouble that turn into a struggle, halfway across Alabam
And that 'hound broke down and left us all stranded in downtown Birmingham
Right away, I bought me a through train ticket, got across Mississippi clean
And I was on that midnight flyer out of Birmingham, smokin' 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 won't let the poor boy down
Sure as you're born, they bought me a silk suit, put luggage in my hand
And I woke up high over Albuquerque on a jet to the promised land
Workin' on a t-bone steak à 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, sweet chariot, come down easy, taxi to the terminal zone
Cut your engines and 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 rode him into Raleigh and on across Caroline
We stopped in Charlotte, we bypassed Rock Hill, we never was a minute late
We was ninety miles out of Atlanta by sundown rollin' out of Georgia State
We had motor trouble that turn into a struggle, halfway across Alabam
And that 'hound broke down and left us all stranded in downtown Birmingham
Right away, I bought me a through train ticket, got across Mississippi clean
And I was on that midnight flyer out of Birmingham, smokin' 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 won't let the poor boy down
Sure as you're born, they bought me a silk suit, put luggage in my hand
And I woke up high over Albuquerque on a jet to the promised land
Workin' on a t-bone steak à 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, sweet chariot, come down easy, taxi to the terminal zone
Cut your engines and 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): David Jay
