On that Waycross, country boy
With dreams of Georgia cotton
The old judge had no mercy
As San Francisco's Mabel Joy
No, she left this house four years, today
And in place of his Mabel Joy
He knew would take him back to Mabel Joy
Who growled, "Your Georgia neck is red
Destitution's child
In the arms of Mabel Joy
He turned twenty-one
So, he jumped a freight at Waycross
Stunned and shaken someone said
In a gray rock federal prison
Born of an L.A. street called 'Shame'
'Neath the red light at her door
Put him face down on the floor
He had fifteen years
He met a girl known on the strip
And wound up in L.A.
The cold nights had no pity
And then the summer came
'Neath the red light at her door
Brought a meaning to his life
Staring at those four gray walls
And a California wife
But sonny, you're still green"
And he ached inside to wander
To the midnight freight
"Son, she don't live here no more
And the night before she left
In silence he would listen
And his momma lived her short life
When a right cross sent him reeling
Laughter found their mornings
Aleep came and left that Waycross, country boy
Growing up came quietly
"Have you seen Mabel Joy?"
On that Waycross, Georgia, farm boy
Having kids and baling hay
Sunday morning found him lying
Most days he went hungry
Sunday morning found him standing
He found a merchant mad marine
With a bullet in his side, he cried
