I remember to this day the bright red Georgia clay,
How it stuck to the tires after the summer rain.
Will power made that old car go; a woman's mind told me that it's so.
Oh, how I wish we were back on the road again.

 [bad word] 
Me and you and a dog named Boo,
Travellin' and livin' off the land.
Me and you and a dog named Boo,
How I love bein' a free man.

I can still recall the wheat fields of Saint Paul,
And the mornin' we got caught robbin' from an old hen.
Old MacDonald made us work, but then he paid us for what it was worth,
Another tank of gas and back on the road again.

I'll never forget that day we motored stately into big L.A.
The lights of the city put settlin' down in my brain.
Though it's only been a month or so, that old car's buggin' us to go.
You gotta get away and get back on the road again.