I hear the train a comin´

it´s rolling round the bend

and I ain´t seen the sunshine since I don´t know when,

I´m stuck in Folsom prison, and time keeps draggin´ on

but that train keeps a rollin´ on down to San Anton..

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

now every time I hear that whistle I hang my head and cry..



I bet there´s rich folks eating in a fancy dining car

they´re probally drinkin´ coffee and smoking big cigarrs.

Well I know I had it coming, I know I can´t be free

but those people keep a movin´

and that´s what torture means...



Well if they´d free me from this prison,

if that railroad train was mine

I bet I´d move just a little further down the line

far from Folsom prison is where I long to stay

and I´d let that lonesome whistle blow my blues away