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Promised Land Video (MV)




Performed By: The Band
Written by: Chuck Berry




The Band - Promised Land Lyrics




I left my home in Norfolk, Virginia
California on my mind
I straddled that Greyhound
And rode him into Raleigh
And on across Caroline

We stopped in Charlotte to bypass Rockhill
We never was a minute late
We was ninety miles out of Atlanta by sundown
Rollin' out of Georgia state

We had motor trouble that turned into a struggle
Halfway across Alabam'
And that bow broke down
And left us all stranded in downtown Birmingham

Right away I bought me a through train ticket
Got across Mississippi clean
And I was on that Midnight Flyer out of Birmingham
Smokin' into New Orleans

Somebody help me get out of Louisiana
Help me get to Houston Town

There are people there who care a bit about me
And they won't let the poor boy down
Georgia born, they bought me a silk suit
And put luggage in my hand

And I woke up high over Albuquerque
On a jet to the promised land

Workin' on a T-bone steak a la carte
Flyin' over to the Golden State

When the pilot told us in thirteen minutes
He would set us at the terminal gate
Swing low chariot, come down easy
Taxi to the terminal door

Cut your engines and cool your wings
And let me make it to the telephone
And Los Angeles, give me Norfolk Virginia
Tidewater for ten o-nine

Tell all the folks back home
It's the promised land callin'
And the poor boy is on the line
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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I left my home in Norfolk, Virginia
California on my mind
I straddled that Greyhound
And rode him into Raleigh
And on across Caroline

We stopped in Charlotte to bypass Rockhill
We never was a minute late
We was ninety miles out of Atlanta by sundown
Rollin' out of Georgia state

We had motor trouble that turned into a struggle
Halfway across Alabam'
And that bow broke down
And left us all stranded in downtown Birmingham

Right away I bought me a through train ticket
Got across Mississippi clean
And I was on that Midnight Flyer out of Birmingham
Smokin' into New Orleans

Somebody help me get out of Louisiana
Help me get to Houston Town

There are people there who care a bit about me
And they won't let the poor boy down
Georgia born, they bought me a silk suit
And put luggage in my hand

And I woke up high over Albuquerque
On a jet to the promised land

Workin' on a T-bone steak a la carte
Flyin' over to the Golden State

When the pilot told us in thirteen minutes
He would set us at the terminal gate
Swing low chariot, come down easy
Taxi to the terminal door

Cut your engines and cool your wings
And let me make it to the telephone
And Los Angeles, give me Norfolk Virginia
Tidewater for ten o-nine

Tell all the folks back home
It's the promised land callin'
And the poor boy is on the line
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Chuck Berry
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management

Back to: The Band

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