Joey, Joey, Joey

Like a perfumed woman
The wind blows in the bunkhouse
Like a perfumed woman
Smelling of where she’s been
Smelling like…
Oregon cherries, or maybe
Texas avocados, something like
Arizona sugar beets
The wind blows in
She sings to me
'Cause I’m one of her rambling kin
She sings
Joey, Joey, Joey
Joey, Joey, Joe
You’ve been too long
In one place
It’s time to go
Time to go, oh
Joey, Joey, Joey
Joey, travel on
You’ve been too long
In one town
And the harvest time’s
Come and gone
That’s what the wind
Sings to me
When the bunk I’ve been
Bunking in
Gets to feeling too soft and cozy;
When the grub they’ve been
Cooking me
Gets to tasting too good
When I’ve had all I want
All the ladies in the neighborhood
She sings
Joey, Joey, Joey
Joey, travel on
You’ve been too long
In one place
And it’s time to go
Time to go, oh
Joey, Joey
Joey, Joe…