G                                   C
In the early mornin' rain with a dollar in my hand,
                                   Dm                  G                   C
And an aching in my heart and my pockets full of sand.
                                 Dm              G                        C
I'm a long way from home and I miss my love one so.
                                G                               C
In the early mornin' rain with nowhere to go.


Out on highway number nine big 7O7 set to go.
I'm struck here on the ground where the cold winds blow.
The liquor tasted good and the women all are fast.
There she goes my friend, she's rolling down at last.

Hear the mighty engine roar, see the silver bid on high.
She's away an' westward bound far above the cloud she'll fly.
Where the mornin' rain don't fall and the sun always shines.
She'll be flying over my home in about two hour's time.

This old airport's got me down; it's no earthly good to me.
'Cause I’m struck here on the ground cold and drunk as I might be.
You can't hop a jet plane like you can a freight train.
So I’d best be on my way in the early mornin' rain.


Copyright © 1966, United Artists