DIRTY OVERHALLS

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Song Title
DIRTY OVERHALLS
Writers
Woody Guthrie
Publisher
LUDLOW MUSIC, INC. (BMI)
% Publisher Controls
100%
Territory Controlled
WORLD
Themes/Keywords
Broke, Clothing, dirty, Hard, Hard Working, Money, Overalls, Poor, Rich, Shame, Train, travel, Wash
Lyrics
Library of Congress Recordings lyrics:
You can wash my pair of dirty overhalls,
I’ll ride that train you call the Cannonball,
From Baltimore to the Frisco Bay.

I worked six months in a lumber town this fall,
And all I’ve got’s these dirty overhalls,
Ain’t got a dime, ain’t that a shame.

I worked six months a-dynamiting coal,
All I’ve got’s these dirty overhalls,
A dirty shame, now who’s to blame.

Good gal, listen, please don’t turn away,
I’ll have a car and a suit of clothes some day,
Now, honey babe, these overhalls.

Honey gal, sweetheart, I do the best I can,
I’m just a poor boy and a hard-workin’ man,
My money’s gone when I get done.

If you leave me, I’ll be so sad and blue,
What is there for a workin’ man to do,
These overhalls are killin’ me.

I seen a rich man ridin’ in his car,
He had a woman for every cylinder,
And a good warm bed and a bottle of gin.

I seen a rich man drivin’ in his car,
He had a woman for every cylinder,
And a good warm bed and a bottle of gin.

I work like a dog, I’m broke all the time,
Couldn’t buy a woman, a two-bit bottle of wine,
If I get out of these overhalls, these overhalls smell too bad.

Rich man took my woman, woman away from me,
He’ll be sorry, sorry wait and see,
When I get out of these overhalls.

Cops oughta put that money man in jail,
He stole my money and took away my gal,
And now who’s gonna wash my overhalls.

Woody at 100 lyrics:
Well, the guns of war have roared and the bombs and shells have fallen,
And the war clouds they rumbled as they rolled.
I was a soldier in the fight and I fought ‘til we won,
My uniform’s my dirty overhalls.

This piece of land that I stand on is my battlefield and home,
My plow and my hoe is my gun.
Clothes don’t make no diff’rence at all, we are workers and fighters all,
My uniform’s my dirty overhalls.

Well, I’ll give you my sweat, I’ll give you my blood,
And I’ll give you your bread and wine.
Before I’d be any man’s slave, I’d rot down in my grave,
And you can lay me down in my dirty overhalls.

Well, we settled here to stay,
And I’ll stick here all my days,
I’ll keep marching in my dirty overhalls.

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