I’ve got to ride that lonesome train.
My heart is heavy with aches and pain.
I said but someday, someday baby,
After a while,
You will be sorry.
Every day, my clouds are grey;
It takes you to roll all those clouds away.
Trouble, trouble, trouble on my mind.
Trouble, trouble, way down the line.
I don’t need, I don’t need no sympathy,
So babe, babe, don’t you, don’t you pity me.
I may be blue, but I don’t mind,
Because I know way down the line,