Utah Phillips - Frisco Road

      
 
 Frisco Road
 Utah Phillips
 Starlight On The Rails
 Banjo tuned E, capo 3, Key of C
 
 Frisco Road
 
    C                        F                   
 A long lonesome go rolling down the Frisco Road,
        C                      G7  
 Every mile feeling I was all alone
         C                                F                    
 In the places where I have seen summer's fat and winter's lean
                C              G7          C   
 And don't you know I wish I could go back home
 
 Chorus:
     F                                     C               
 I don't know where i left it though, its always on my mind
    G7                                    
 I ask the same old questions all the time
        C                               F                  
 Is the old town still the same? Does anybody know my name?
               C              F           G7            C     
 The years slip by like the numbers on an endless highway sign
 
 (spoken)
 Standing here in the breakdown lane, don't think I'll make it
 
 today;
 And I wish the road was a big freight train, blowing and rolling my
 
 way.
 I know the rain wouldn't seem so cold on the top of an old boxcar,
 And wherever it was I was trying to go, it wouldn't seem half so
 
 far.
 
 I remember the Roper yard cafe and a pretty little beanery queen;
 She gave those jailhouse spuds away to a bum she'd never seen.
 Well, I tipped her with a couple of rhymes on the back of a
 
 placemat there,
 And I've thought about her plenty of times when I couldn't bum a
 
 square.
 
 Or the time we rode on a piggy-back, punching the Great Divide;
 The blowing snow had iced the track and the train got stuck inside;
 The diesel fumes they got so thick I thought we'd all be gassed,
 Then they sanded her out just in the nick and punched her through
 
 at last.
 
 Now I don't claim to be too proud to shag a ride on my thumb,
 But I'd trade this whole hitch-hiking crowd for a honest old
 
 railroad bum;
 And if there ever comes a day when the rails have gone to rust,
 I'll put my jug and bindle away and give up in disgust.
 
 Beyond these gentle Eastern hills and the soft New England sky
 Do the highball whistles echo still where the mile-long blazers
 
 fly?
 Sitting here by the toll road gates, I wonder as I rest,
 Do the heavy, clanking, lonely freights still thunder a-way out
 
 West?
 
 (sung)
 Have you seen the morning sun putting shadows on the run
 As you were climbing out of some old reefer hole,
 High above the roaring wheels? Then you know just how it feels
 To ride the tops and watch the prairies roll.