Got in a little trouble at the county seat. Lord, they put me in a jailhouse for loping on the street. When the judge read the verdict I was a guilty man. He said forty-five dollars or thirty days in the can. And that'll be cash on the barrelhead, son. You can take your choice, you're twenty-one. No money down, no credit plan. No time to chase you, cause I'm a busy man. Found a telephone number on a laundry slip. At a good-hearted jail with a six-gun hit. Let me call long-distance, she said, number, please. No sooner than I told her, she shouted out at me. Said that'll be cash on the barrelhead, son. Not part, not half, but the entire sum. No money down, no credit plan. Cause a little bag tells me you're a traveling man. Thirty days in a jailhouse, four days on the road. I was feeling mighty hungry, my feet are hemmed old. Saw a greyhound coming, stuck out my thumb. And just before I got seated, the driver called my arm. Said that'll be cash on the barrelhead, son. This old grey dog gets paid to run. When the engine stops, Lord, the wheels gonna roll. Give me cash on the barrelhead, I'll take you down on a roll. © transcript Emily Beynon