His Daddy was a simple man, just a red dirt Georgia farmer His Momma spent her sure life, havin' kids and balin' hay He had 15 years and an acre inside to wander So he hopped a freight in Waycross, and wound up in L.A. Lord, the cold nights had no pity for a Waycross, Georgia farm boy Most days he went hungry, then the summer came And he met a girl known on the strip, as San Francisco's Mabel Joy Destitutions child born of an L.A. street called, "Shame" Growin' up came quietly, in the arms of Mabel Joy Laughter found their mornings, brought meaning to his life The night before she left, sleep came and left that Waycross, country boy With dreams of Georgia cotton and a California wife
Sunday morning found him standin' neath the red light at her door Right cross sent him reelin', put him face down on the floor In place of Mabel Joy, he found a merchant mad marine Who growled, "Your Georgia neck is red but sonny, you're still green" He turned 21, in a grey rock fed'ral prison The old judge had no mercy for a Waycross, Georgia boy Starin' at those four grey walls in silence he would listen To that midnight freight he knew would take him back to Mabel Joy
Mornin' found him standin' 'neath the red light at her door With a bullet in his side, he cried, "Have you seen Mabel Joy?" Stunned and shaken, someone said, "Why, she's not here no more She left this house four years today, they say she's lookin' for some Georgia farm boy"