On The Road Cold Chisel

Long ago in college days
You could measure my hand
By the style of my play
Hitchhiking home when the dollars ran low
I had little to do and nothing to say
Then the road was grafted like a mistletoe
To my skin and my bones
I just had to go
Then everyday and every time I stayed
My feet were burnin'
You just got to know
It's a never ending show
Packup my toothbrush, I just got to go

As we slaved out west
On the cotton chipping
For the money we got
I knew we were slipping
But later speeding down the Puttee Road
Our heads were high
And our hearts were skipping
And we drove all day down Wallacia way
For three long days of music and friends
And we all got stoned on jungle juice and ladies
When the last note died
We hit the road again