I hear the train a-comin', it's rollin round the bend,
and i ain't seen the sunshine since...i don't know when.
i'm stuck in folsom prison and time keeps dragging on,
but that train keeps a-rollin', on down to san anton.
When i was just a baby my mama told me, "son,
"always be a good boy, don't ever play with guns."
but i shoot a man in reno, just to watch him die.
when i hear that whistle blowin', i hang my head and cry.
I bet there's rich folk eatin' in a fancy dining car.
they're probably drinkin' coffee and smoking big cigars.
well i know i had it comin', i know i can't be free,
but those people keep a-movin', and that's what tortures me.
Well if they freed me from this prison, if railroad train was mine,
i bet i'd move it on a little farther down the line.
far from folson prison, that's where i want to stay,
and i'd let that lonesome whistle blow my blues away.