PROMISED LAND
Chuck Berry

I left my home in Norfolk, Virginia,
California on my mind.
I straddled that Greyhound and rode him into Raleigh
And on across Caroline.

We stopped in Charlotte, but bypassed Rock Hill.
We never was a minute late.
We was ninety miles out of Atlanta by sundown,
Rollin' out o' Georgia state.

We had motor trouble; it turned into a struggle
Halfway across Alabam',
And that 'hound broke down and left us all stranded
In downtown Birmingham.

Right away, I bought me a through train ticket
Ridin' 'cross Mississippi clean,
And I was on that Midnight Flyer out of Birmingham,
Smoking into New Orleans.

Somebody help me get out of Louisiana.
Just help me get to Houston town.
There are people there who care a little 'bout me,
And they won't let the poor boy down.

Sure as you're born, they bought me a silk suit,
Put luggage in my hands,
And I woke up high over Albuquerque
On a jet to the promised land.

Workin' on a T-bone steak a la carte,
Flying 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 zone.
Cut your engines and cool your wings
And let me make it to the telephone.

Los Angeles, give me Norfolk Virginia,
Tidewater four-ten-oh-nine.
Tell the folks back home this is the promised land callin'
And the poor boy is on the line.