by James Hyland

I’m a ramblin man in 1881

Got my Momma’s bible, I got my Daddy’s gun

I got a ramblin’ soul deep inside of me

I’m a ramblin man, ramblin’ down to Tennessee

Living on the run, going on year 3

All because I shot a man who was throwing down on me

We were playing cards, I had the better hand

That boy went for his .44 and I bested him again

Well my Anna Leigh, she’s the one I dearly love

But the fever took her to the good Lord up above

Now I wonder round, lonesome as could be

Just me and her memory ramblin and we’re bound for Tennessee

I hit Tennessee at the Pickett County Line

I lost a bounty hunter through the dark Kentucky Pines

I’m like a whip-poor-will

Whistling through the trees

Echoing her favorite song

Through the hills of Tennessee

The law’s after me

Cause there's a price upon my head

But I ain't never gonna hang

Not like my daddy did

Maybe I’ll turn west

I hear it's still wild

I’ll fall for a Texas girl

And raise a fiddle playing child