I hear the train a comin'; it's rollin' 'round the bend, And I ain't seen the sunshine since I don't know when. I'm stuck at Folsom Prison and time keeps draggin' on. But that train keeps rollin' on down to San Antone.
When I was just a baby, my mama told me, Son, Always be a good boy; don't ever play with guns. But I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die. When I hear that whistle blowin' I hang my head and cry.
I bet there's rich folk eatin' in a fancy dining car. They're prob'ly drinkin' coffee and smokin' big cigars, But I know I had it comin', I know I can't be free, But those people keep a movin', and that's what tortures me.
Well, if they freed me from this prison, if that railroad train was mine, I bet I'd move on over a little farther down the line, Far from Folsom Prison, that's where I want to stay, And I'd let that lonesome whistle blow my blues away ~