Well, that mean old, mean old Frisco And that low down Santa Fe Well, that mean old Frisco And that low down Santa Fe Well, it carried my baby away And it's blown right back on me I was standing I was listening For that Southern whistle blow I was standing and listening For that Southern whistle to blow Lord, she did not catch the Southern And now where do you suppose That woman might have gone? Well, then I ain't, I ain't got no Got no special rider here, Lord I ain't got no special rider here Well, I think I'll leave 'Cause I don't feel welcome Well, my mama she done told me And my papa told me, too Well, my mama she done told me And my papa told me, too Everybody grins in your face son Well, they ain't no friends of yours