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Willie Jones was a man I met when I lived in Baltimore |
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I was a guard and he was doing time |
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In the three long years he stayed there I got to know him well |
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Willie Jones he was a friend of mine |
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He used to say buddy you know where I'm going when they let me out of here |
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Alabama could be heaven if the Lord was there |
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And he talked about the southland though he'd drifted from its shores |
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I never seen a man who loved it more |
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He talked about the whippoorwills in the Alabama night |
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Honeysuckle vine and sugar cane |
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Swimming holes and fishing poles and early morning frost |
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And sleeping under a tin roof when it rained |
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He talked about a country road and a cabin in the pines |
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And a girl with wavy long chestnut brown hair |
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He talked about the beauty of his Blue Ridge Mountain home |
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And darn near made me think that I was there |
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He used to say buddy you know where I'm going when they let me out of here |
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Alabama could be heaven if the Lord was there |
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When a man ain't got no freedom the time sure passes slow |
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Willie Jones had ten long years to go |
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It's been almost a years now since that hot night in July |
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Willie hit the guard and jumped the fence |
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I had my rifle ready but I couldn't let it fly |
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I shot over his head and we ain't seen him since |
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Then last week the postman brought a letter to my door |
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Marked No Return Address and No Reply |
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It just said nobody north of Birmingham is gonna see this boy again |
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But if you're ever down our way won't you please drop by |
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He used to say buddy you know where I'm going when they let me out of here |
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Alabama could be heaven if the Lord was there |
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And he talked about the southland though he'd drifted from its shores |
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I never seen a man who loved it more |
