I remember to this day,

the bright red Georgia clay,

how it stuck to the tires after the summer rain . . .

Will-power made that ol' car go,

a woman's mind told me that it's so,

Oh! how I wish we were back on the road again . . .



Me an' you an' a dog named Boo,

travelin' and livin' off the land . . .

Me an' you an' a dog named Boo,

How I loved bein' a free man . . .



I can still recall,

the wheat fields of St. Paul,

and the mornin' we got caught robbin' from an old hen . . .

Old MacDonald, he made us work,

but then he paid us for what it was worth,

another tank of gas an' back on the road again . . .







Well, I'll never forget that day,

we motored stately into Big L.A.

the lights of the city put settling-down in my brain . . .

Though it's only a month or so,

that ol' car is a buggin' us to go,

you gotta get away,

get back on the road again . . .









Words and Music by Kent Lavoie, 1971