There are people there who care a little 'bout me
And won't put the poor boy down
Georgia born, they bought me a silk suit
And put luggage in my hand
And woke up high over Albuquerque
On a jet to the promised land
Workin' on a T-bone ala cartee
Flyin' over to the Golden State
When the pilot told us in thirteen minutes
He would set us at the terminal gate
Swing low chariot, come down easy
Taxi to the terminal door
Cut your engines and cool your wings
And let me make it to the telephone
Los Angeles, give me Norfolk Virginia
Tidewater four ten o nine
Tell all the folks back home
It's the promised land callin'
And the poor boy is on the line