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There's a shanty in a town on a little plot of ground

where the green grass grows all around, all around,

and the roof's so torn so badly worn

it touches to the ground.

Just a tumbledown shack that sits way back

about twenty-five feet from the railroad track;

hanging on the line most all the time

keeps calling me back to my little grass shack.



I'd be just as sassy as Haile Selassie, 

if I were a king it wouldn't mean a thing.

Put my boots on tall, read the writing on the wall,

and it wouldn't mean a thing, not a doggone thing.

There's a queen waiting there in a rocking chair,

just blowing her stack on Raineer beer,

and I'm looking all around and I'm trucking on down

'cause I gotta get back to my shanty town.



I'd be just as sassy as Haile Selassie, 

if I were a king it wouldn't mean a thing.

Put my boots on tall, read the writing on the wall,

and it wouldn't mean a thing, not a doggone thing.

There's a queen waiting there in a rocking chair,

just blowing her stack on Raineer beer,

and I'm looking all around and I'm trucking on down

'cause I gotta get back to my shanty town,

I gotta get back to my shanty town