I well I wish I was drunk in Havana
I wish I was at the Mardi Gras
I wish I had me two pretty ladies on a buckboard down
On the South Georgia farm

Run, run, run were the coyotes roam
Never to return to the transit road

That's were they bury the American dead
That's were they bury the American dead
Well I wish I had one drop of liquor that runs like a
River in the cotton wood hills
Making me forget the maggots, and the chiggers
I'd like to spend an evening with a moonshine still

Run, run, run, were the wild wind blows
Never to return to the transit road
I could drink a hatful of the Tennessee rain
I could drink a hatful of the Tennessee rain

Well I wish I was a helmsman on a clipper
bound for the Spanish main
Breathing fancy breezes
Gold Jamaican sugar cane

Run, run, were the wild wind blows
Never to return to the transit road
I could drink a hatful of the Tennessee rain
I could drink a hatful of the Tennessee rain

Shake it out

Run, run, were the wild wind blows
Never to return to the transit road
I could drink a hatful of the Tennessee rain
I could drink a hatful of the Tennessee rain

Copyright: BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Joe Strummer