C C/B Am Harold Wilson is my name, son, why don't you sit a spell C C/B Am I live right here on the Ferguson Road at the Paradise Motel C C/B Am And no you do not know me, there's a story I'd like to tell E7 F It's a story I'm sure you know well C G Am It's a story that I'm sure you know well
I had me a place on Thunder Ridge in a doomsday shack My wife had left, took the kids a couple years back And I spend most of my mornings thinking about that I spend my afternoons trying to figure out what to plan I spend my afternoons trying to figure out what to plan
Chorus: C C/B Am Did you ever try to farm a farm with a pick and a shovel C C/B Am Try to put a field in of corn just wouldn't grow to nothin' C C/B Am Starin' down across the town, you wonder why I even bother E F When up the road there's a vacant room with climate control and color C G Am You can stay there by the month for a hundred dollars C G Am You can stay there by the month for a hundred dollars
There wasn't money in corn and there wasn't money in beans They took my telephone, shut off my electricity And then a letter came in the mail saying there's taxes owed by me If I was ever gonna pay well I had to release If I was ever gonna pay well I had to release
Chorus
Solo
Well you sold that farm to some fool for 10 cents on the dollar I saw him out there last week, I was on the way to visit my daughter And that son of a b***h is out there trying to hook a windmill up to water When he heard me laugh, well he turned and I swear he hollered When he heard me laugh, well he turned and I swear he hollered
Chorus
Now the government checks come down the pike, regularly as rain And I sit outside my old ??? when the Junebugs drive me in Harold Wilson is my name, son, why don't you sit a spell I live right here on the Ferguson Road at the Paradise Motel