| Intro | B |
| B | E | B | E | |
| The first thing | I remember | knowing was a | lonesome whistle | blowin' |
| B | F#7 | |
| And a | young un's dream of growin' up to | ride |
| B | E | B | E | |
| On a | freight train leavin' | town, not | knowin' where I'm | bound |
| B | F#7 | B | |
| And no | one could change my | mind, but Mama | tried |
| B | E | B | E | |
| One and | only rebel | child, from a | family meek and | mild |
| B | F#7 | |
| My M | ama seemed to know what lay in s | tore |
| B | E | B | E | |
| 'Spite of | all my Sunday | learnin', toward the | bad I kept on | turnin' |
| B | F#7 | B | |
| 'Til | Mama couldn't | hold me any | more |
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| Euitar | Solo | B | E | B | F#7 | B |
| B | E | B | E | |
| Dear old D | addy, rest his s | oul, he left my | mom a heavy l | oad |
| B | F#7 | |
| She tr | ied so very hard to fill his | shoes |
| B | E | B | E | |
| Workin' ho | urs without | rest, wanted | me to have the | best |
| B | F#7 | B | |
| She | tried to raise me | right, but I re | fused |
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