Texty: Black Hills Country Band. Rablin' Fever.
My hat don't hang on the same nail too long
My ears can't stand to hear the same old song
And I don't leave the highway long enough
To bog down in the mud
'Cause I've got ramblin' fever in my blood
Ramblin' fever
A kind that can't be measured by degrees
Ramblin' fever
There ain't no kind of cure for my disease
There's times I'd like to bed down on a sofa
And let some pretty lady rub my back
And spend the early morning drinking coffee
Talking about when I'll be coming back
'Cause I don't let no woman tie me down
And I'll never get to old too get around
I want to die along the highway and rot away
Like some old highline pole
Restless ramblin' fever in my soul
My ears can't stand to hear the same old song
And I don't leave the highway long enough
To bog down in the mud
'Cause I've got ramblin' fever in my blood
Ramblin' fever
A kind that can't be measured by degrees
Ramblin' fever
There ain't no kind of cure for my disease
There's times I'd like to bed down on a sofa
And let some pretty lady rub my back
And spend the early morning drinking coffee
Talking about when I'll be coming back
'Cause I don't let no woman tie me down
And I'll never get to old too get around
I want to die along the highway and rot away
Like some old highline pole
Restless ramblin' fever in my soul
Black Hills Country Band
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