Well, you're too old to wrangle or ride in the swingnYou beat the triangle and you curse everythingnNow if dirt were a kingdom, well you would be kingnnOn the Goodnight trail, on the Loving trailnOur old woman's lonesome tonightnAnd your French harp is crying just like a lone bawling calfnWell, it's a wonder the wind don't tear off your skinnGet in there and blow out the lightnnNow the cook fire's out, the coffee's all gonenNow the old boys are up and they're raising the dawnnYou're sitting there, you are lost in a songnnOn the Goodnight trail, on the Loving trailnOur old woman is lonesome tonightnNow your French harp is crying just like a lone bawling calfnIt's a wonder the wind don't tear off your skinnGet in there and blow out the lightnnAh, with your snake oils, your herbs and your liniment toonYou can do anything that a doctor can donWell, except find a cure for your own goddam stewnnOn the Goodnight trail, on the loving trailnOur old woman is lonesome tonightnAnd your French harp is crying like a lone bawling calfnIt's a wonder the wind don't tear off your skinnGet in there and blow out the lightnnSome day I know that I'll be just the samenI'll be wearing an apron instead of a namenNow no one can change it, no one's to blamenCause the desert's a book writ in lizards and sagenYou know, it's easy to look just like an old torn out pagenYou're all faded and cracked with the colors of agennOn the Goodnight Trail, on the Loving TrailnOur old woman is lonesome tonightnAnd your French harp is crying like a lone bawling calfnIt's a wonder the wind don't tear off your skinnGo in there and blow out the light