Lumberjack Songtext
von Johnny Cash & Marty Robbins
Lumberjack Songtext
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
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, 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 'till 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 callin′ me
Will you tell me somethin', 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 doe
Will you tell me somethin', 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 ′till night
You laugh and sing and you cuss and fight
On Saturday night you go to Eugene's
And on a Sunday morning your pockets are clean
Will you tell me somethin′, 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
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, 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 'till 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 callin′ me
Will you tell me somethin', 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 doe
Will you tell me somethin', 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 ′till night
You laugh and sing and you cuss and fight
On Saturday night you go to Eugene's
And on a Sunday morning your pockets are clean
Will you tell me somethin′, 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
Writer(s): Leon Payne Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
