SONG TO WOODY

I'm out here a thousand miles from my home,
Walking a road other men have gone down.
Come see a new world of people and things.
Hear paupers, and peasants, and princes and kings.

Hey, hey Woody Guthrie, I wrote you a song.
About a funny old world that's a-coming along.
Seams sick and it's hungry. it's tired and it's torn.
It looks like it's dying, and its hardly been born.

Hey, hey Woody Guthrie, but I know that you know,
All things that I'm saying and many times more.
I'm a-singing you this song, but I can't sing enough.
'Cause there's not many men done the things that you've done.

Here's to Sisco, and Sonny, and Leadbelly too.
And to all the good people that travelled with you.
Here's to the hearts and the hands of the men.
That come with the dust and are gone with the wind.

I leaving tomorrow, but I could leave today.
Somewhere down the road, someday.
The very last thing that I'd want you to do,
Is to say that I've been hittin' some Hard Travellin' too.