| He took a plane to New York City |
| To chase his fortune on the Wall Street plan |
| Now he is stranded in Manhattan |
| Yet the Southeast Texas coast still calls his name |
| He said come on wheels, give up a ticket |
| Hello thunder, won’t you roll him home |
| Oh a needle and thread could mend his heartache |
| Old moon give way to the day and hand him the sun |
| There is no shelter for the lonely |
| And the Northeast women speak of a different tongue |
| There are days he cries so loudly |
| That the southern rain blows north to ease his heart |
| He said come on wheels, give up a ticket |
| Hello thunder, won’t you roll him home |
| Oh a needle and thread could mend his heartache |
| Old moon give way to the day and hand him the sun |
| There is no shelter for the lonely |
| And the Northeast women speak of a different tongue |
| There are days he cries so loudly |
| That the southern rain blows north to ease his heart |
| Northern harbor take care of my blue boy |
| Let your city give him warmth for his hands |
| He will be happy, his heart won’t long for |
| His home on the Southeast Texas coast again |
| He said come on wheels, give up a ticket |
| Hello thunder, won’t you roll him home |
| Oh a needle and thread could mend his heartache |
| Old moon give way to the day and hand him the sun |
| There is no shelter for the lonely |
| And the Northeast women speak of a different tongue |
| There are days he cries so loudly |
| That the southern rain blows north to ease his heart |