Hey, sending this one out for all you Hag fans out here on the highway
You got that guitar, now
Sounds good, aw yeah
Aw come on with it, little Willie
My hat don't hang on the same nail too long
My ears can't stand to hear the same old song
I don't leave the highway long enough
To bog down in the mud
I've got rambling fever in my blood
Well, I caught this rambling fever long ago
Hell, when I first heard a lonesome whistle blow
And, if anyone ever said I ever gave a damn, man
They damn sure told you wrong
I've had rambling fever all along
Rambling fever
The kind that can't be measured by degrees
Rambling fever
There ain't no kind of cure for my disease
Sometimes I'd like to bed down on the sofa
And let some pretty lady rub my back
Aw yeah, spend the early morning drinking coffee
Talkin' about when I'll be coming back
I don't let no woman tie me down
I'll never get too old to get around
I want to die along the highway and rot away
Like some old high-line pole
Rest this rambling fever in my soul
Rambling fever
The kind that can't be measured by degrees
Rambling fever
There ain't no kind of cure for my disease
Put that hammer down, Tony, aw yeah
That's country music right there, buddy
Damn right, ole son
One more time