My heart's in the ice house come hill or come valley. Like a long ago sunday when I walked through the alley. On a cold winter's morning to a church house.
My heart's in the ice house come hill or come valley. Like a long ago Sunday when I walked through the alley. On a cold winter's morning to a church house.
Billy, the bum lived by the thumb. And sang of the hobo's delight. He'd prove he could run. Twice as fast as the sun. By losing his shadow at night. Now he loved every girl.