Cash On The Barrelhead

Got in a little trouble at the county seat
Lord they put me in the jailhouse, for loafing on the street
When the judge heard the verdict, I was a guilty man
He said forty-five dollars, or thirty days in the can

   And that’ll be cash on the barrelhead, son
   You can take your choice, you’re twenty-one
   No money down, no credit plan
   No time to chase you, ’cause I’m a busy man

Found a telephone number, on a laundry slip
Had a kind-hearted jailer, with a six-gun hip
He let me call long-distance, She said, “Number, please?”
No sooner than I told her, she hollered out at me

   That’ll be cash on the barrelhead, son
   Not part, not half, but the entire sum
   No money down, no credit plan
   ‘Cause a little bird tells me that you’re a traveling man

Thirty days in the jailhouse, four days on the road
I was feeling mighty hungry, my feet a heavy load
Saw a Greyhound a coming, stuck up my thumb
Just as I’d been seated, the driver caught my arm

   That’ll be cash on the barrelhead son
   This old gray dog, gets paid to run
   When engine starts, oh the wheels won’t roll
   That’ll be cash on the barrelhead, I’ll take you down the road