Buck Owens And The Buckaroos - Promised Land

Buck Owens and the Buckaroos sings Promised Land    in Love on the Hee Haw show 1979.(Chuck Berry Cover)

"Promised Land" is a song lyric written by Chuck Berry to the melody of "Wabash Cannonball", an American folk song. The song was first recorded in this version by Chuck Berry in 1964 for his album St. Louis to Liverpool. Released in December, 1964, it was Berry's first single issued following his prison term for a Mann Act conviction.

Chuck Berry - Promised Land Lyrics

 

I left my home in Norfolk Virginia
California on my mind
I straddled that Greyhound
And rode into Raleigh and on across Caroline
We had motor trouble that turn into a struggle
Halfway across Alabama
And that hound broke down and left us all stranded
In downtown Birmingham
Right away I brought me a through train ticket
Ridin' across Mississippi clean
I was on that midnight flyer out of Birmingham
Smoking into New Orleans
Somebody help me get out of Louisiana
Just help me get to Houston Town
There are people there, who care a little about me
And they won't let the poor boy down
Sure as you're born brought me a silk suit
Put luggage in my hand
And I woke up high over Albuquerque
On a jet to the promised land
Working on a T-bone steak a la carte
Flying over to the golden state
When the pilot told us in thirteen minutes
He would set us at the terminal gate
Swing low chariot come down easy
Taxi to the terminal zone
Cut your engines and cool your wings
And let me make it to the telephone
Los Angeles give me Norfolk Virginia
Tidewater four ten o nine
Tell the folks back home this is the promised land calling
And the poor boy is on the line
Right away I brought me a through train ticket
Ridin' across Mississippi clean
I was on that midnight flyer out of Birmingham
Smoking into New Orleans
Somebody help me get out of Louisiana
Just help me get to Houston Town
There are people there, who care a little about me
And they won't let the poor boy down
Sure as you're born brought me a silk suit
Put luggage in my hand
And I woke up high over Albuquerque
On a jet to the promised land
Working on a T-bone steak a la carte
Flying over to the golden state
When the pilot told us in thirteen minutes
He would set us at the terminal gate
Swing low chariot come down easy
Taxi to the terminal zone
Cut your engines and cool your wings
And let me make it to the telephone
Los Angeles give me Norfolk Virginia
Tidewater four ten o nine
Tell the folks back home this is the promised land calling
And the poor boy is on the line

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