Got in a little trouble at the county seat
Lord they put me in the jailhouse, for loafing on the street
When the judge heard the verdict, I was a guilty man
He said forty-five dollars, or thirty days in the can
And that'll be cash on the barrelhead, son
You can take your choice, you're twenty-one
No money down, no credit plan
No time to chase you, 'cause I'm a busy man
Found a telephone number, on a laundry slip
Had a kind-hearted jailer, with a six-gun hip
He let me call long-distance, She said, Number, please?
No sooner than I told her, she hollered out at me
That'll be cash on the barrelhead, son
Not part, not half, but the entire sum
No money down, no credit plan
'Cause a little bird tells me that you're a traveling man
Thirty days in the jailhouse, four days on the road
I was feeling mighty hungry, my feet a heavy load
Saw a Greyhound a coming, stuck up my thumb
Just as I'd been seated, the driver caught my arm
That'll be cash on the barrelhead son
This old gray dog, gets paid to run
When engine starts, oh the wheels won't roll
That'll be cash on the barrelhead, I'll take you down the road