Johnny Cash - Lumberjack lyrics
[Johnny Cash - Lumberjack lyrics]
Ride this train to Roseburg, Oregon
Now there's a town for you
And you talk about rough
You know a lot of places in the
Country claim Paul Bunyon lived there
But you should have seen Roseburg when
Me and my daddy come there
Every one of them loggers looked
Like Paul Bunyon to me
And I was a skinny kid about sixteen
And I was scared to death when
We walked into that camp
None of the lumberjacks paid any
Attention to me at first
But when my pa told the boss that
Me and him wanted a job
A lot of 'em stopped their work
To see what was gonna happen
That big boss walked around me looked
Me up and down and said
Mister, I believe that boy is made out of
Second growth timber and I guess I was
Everybody but me and pa had
A big laugh over it
Pa got kinda mad and the boss finally said he
Might start me out as a high climber
I didn't know what a high climber was, boy
I sure learned fast
That steel corded rope cut my
Back and that axe
I thought it was gonna break my arms
Off but I stuck with it
It wasn't long 'til I learned
That a man's got to be a lot tougher than
The timber he's cuttin'
Finally I could swing that crosscut saw
With the best of them
I lived on a farm out in Iowa
I pulled the corn and I worked in the hay
Got trapped by a girl but I wiggled free
Heard the Oregon timber calling me
Will you tell me something, Mr lumberjack?
Is it one for forward and three for back?
Is it two for stop or four for go?
Boy, ask a whistle punk, I don't know
Well, I learned this fact from
A logger named Ray
You don't cut timber on a windy day
Stay out of the woods
When the moisture's low
Or you ain't gonna live
To collect your dough
Will you tell me something, Mr lumberjack?
Is it one for forward and three for back?
Is it two for stop or four for go?
Boy, ask a whistle punk, I don't know
Well you work in the woods
From morning to night
You laugh and sing and you cuss and fight
On Saturday night you go to Eugene
And on a Sunday morning
Your pockets are clean
Will you tell me something, Mr lumberjack?
Is it one for forward and three for back?
Is it two for stop or four for go?
Boy, ask a whistle punk, I don't know
Now there's a town for you
And you talk about rough
You know a lot of places in the
Country claim Paul Bunyon lived there
But you should have seen Roseburg when
Me and my daddy come there
Every one of them loggers looked
Like Paul Bunyon to me
And I was a skinny kid about sixteen
And I was scared to death when
We walked into that camp
None of the lumberjacks paid any
Attention to me at first
But when my pa told the boss that
Me and him wanted a job
A lot of 'em stopped their work
To see what was gonna happen
That big boss walked around me looked
Me up and down and said
Mister, I believe that boy is made out of
Second growth timber and I guess I was
Everybody but me and pa had
A big laugh over it
Pa got kinda mad and the boss finally said he
Might start me out as a high climber
I didn't know what a high climber was, boy
I sure learned fast
That steel corded rope cut my
Back and that axe
I thought it was gonna break my arms
Off but I stuck with it
It wasn't long 'til I learned
That a man's got to be a lot tougher than
The timber he's cuttin'
Finally I could swing that crosscut saw
With the best of them
I lived on a farm out in Iowa
I pulled the corn and I worked in the hay
Got trapped by a girl but I wiggled free
Heard the Oregon timber calling me
Will you tell me something, Mr lumberjack?
Is it one for forward and three for back?
Is it two for stop or four for go?
Boy, ask a whistle punk, I don't know
Well, I learned this fact from
A logger named Ray
You don't cut timber on a windy day
Stay out of the woods
When the moisture's low
Or you ain't gonna live
To collect your dough
Will you tell me something, Mr lumberjack?
Is it one for forward and three for back?
Is it two for stop or four for go?
Boy, ask a whistle punk, I don't know
Well you work in the woods
From morning to night
You laugh and sing and you cuss and fight
On Saturday night you go to Eugene
And on a Sunday morning
Your pockets are clean
Will you tell me something, Mr lumberjack?
Is it one for forward and three for back?
Is it two for stop or four for go?
Boy, ask a whistle punk, I don't know