On The Road To Jericho

I left Jerusalem last week for Jericho
In the afternoon, the sun was getting low
And then the bushes shook, and out they came at me
They were robbing me, half-naked, while they beat me head to toe
And they left me on the road to Jericho
Lying almost slain, and wounded by the road
Crying out in pain for a sympathetic soul
First a priest, and then another of my kind
Well, they were men I could have trusted, but they acted deaf and blind
They were strangers on the road to Jericho
Oh, Jericho
Jericho
Oh, Jericho
Oh, Jericho
Through the blood and tears, I saw a worried face
He was from Samaria, my people hate his race
He bandaged up my wounds and he laid me on his horse
Although my memory is cloudy, I can still feel his friendly flow
Such a kind man on the road to Jericho
Jericho
When I later asked the innkeeper the man’s name he did not know
Just a neighbor on the road to Jericho
Jericho
Jericho
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Jericho
No, oh, oh, oh
Jericho