Well, the Lone Ranger and Tonto

They are ridin' down the line

Fixin' everybody's troubles

Everybody's except mine

Someone musta told them that I was doin' fine Oh, you five-and-ten cent women

With nothin' in your heads

I got a real gal I'm lovin'

Lord, I'll love her till I'm dead

Go away from my door and my window, too

Right now Lord, I ain't goin' down to no race track

See no sports car run

I don't have no sports car

And I don't even care to have one

I can walk anytime around the block Well, the wind keeps a-blowin' me

Up and down the street

With my hat in my hand

And my boots on my feet

Watch out so you don't step on me Well, lookit here buddy

You want to be like me?

Pull out your six-shooter

And rob every bank you can see

Tell the judge I said it was all right

Yes