Well, that mean old, mean old Frisco And that low down Santa Fe Yes, that mean old Frisco Low down Santa Fe Well it Carried my babe away And blow that smoke out to me I was standing, looking and listening, For that southern whistle to blow I was standing, listening, For that southern whistle to blow Well she didn't catch that southern Lord now where did that girl go Well, my mother, she done told me And my father told me too Yes, my mother she done told me Father told me too if a woman grins in your face, Son Well, she ain't no friend of you Lord, I wonder, I wonder Will she ever think of me Lord, I wonder Will she ever think of me Lord I wonder sometimes, Will my baby think of me Lord, I ain't got no, I ain't got no Special rider here Lord, I ain't got no Special rider here I think I'm gonna leave 'Cause I don't feel welcome here