I remember to this day, the bright red Georgia clay, how it stuck to the tires after the summer rain . . . Will-power made that ol' car go, a woman's mind told me that it's so, Oh! how I wish we were back on the road again . . . Me an' you an' a dog named Boo, travelin' and livin' off the land . . . Me an' you an' a dog named Boo, How I loved bein' a free man . . . I can still recall, the wheat fields of St. Paul, and the mornin' we got caught robbin' from an old hen . . . Old MacDonald, he made us work, but then he paid us for what it was worth, another tank of gas an' back on the road again . . . Well, I'll never forget that day, we motored stately into Big L.A. the lights of the city put settling-down in my brain . . . Though it's only a month or so, that ol' car is a buggin' us to go, you gotta get away, get back on the road again . . . Words and Music by Kent Lavoie, 1971