peter.paul.and.mary/early_mornin_rain

by Gordon Lightfoot [1,5]



In the early mornin' rain

With a dollar in my hand,

With an achin' in my heart

And my pockets full of sand,

I'm a long way from home,

And I miss my loved one so

In the early mornin' rain,

With no place to go.



Out on runway number nine

Big seven-o-seven set to go,

But I'm out here on the grass

Where the pavement never grows

Well, the liquor tasted good

And the women all were fast,

There she goes, my friends

She's a-rollin down at last



Hear the mighty engines roar,

See the silver wing on high,

She's away and westward bound

Far above the clouds she'll fly,

Where the mornin' rain don't fall

And the sun always shines,

She'll be flyin' o'er my home

In about three hours time.



This old airport's got me down,

It's no earthly good to me,

'Cause I'm stuck here on the ground

Cold and drunk as I might be.

Can't jump a plane,

Like a freight train,

So I'd best be on my way

In the early mornin' rain