Tekst:
Guthrie Arlo The Best Of Arlo Guthrie

Woke up this morning with my head in my hand Come on, children, come on The snow was falling all over the land Come on, children, come on I don't know

CHORUS: I don't want a pickle Just want to ride on my motorsickle And I don't want a tickle 'Cause I'd rather ride on my motorsickle And I don't want

Coming in from London From over the pole Flying in a big airliner Chickens flying everywhere around the plane Could we ever feel much finer? CHORUS:

Riding on the City of New Orleans, Illinois Central Monday morning rail Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders, Three conductors and twenty-five sacks

It's the tenth of January And I still ain't had no sleep She comes waItzing in the nighttime Made of wings She is dressed up like a bandit With a hundred