|
Well, I hope to tell you, Johnny, that I lay that rifle down but leave the noose and the calaboose and headed for another town.
|
|
Well, I've got your name in San Jose and your picture's there to see.
|
And they're shootin' men in Texas just because they look like me.
|
|
Chorus:
|
And we will run the ridges of our green land Tennessee
|
And we will hide for forty years if that's what's meant to be, meant to be, meant to be.
|
Meant to be, meant to be, meant to be.
|
|
Maybe we could try Mexico and cross the desert sand,
|
But they're guardin' 'cross the border 'case we swim the Rio Grande
|
|
(Chorus)
|
|
Well, they'll rope and tie you, Johnny, and they'll throw you to the ground
|
And they'll let you hang a week or two 'fore they cut your body down.
|
|
(Chorus)
|
|
-----
|
|
|
|
-----------------
|
RUN THE RIDGES
|
| John Stewart |
