I'm headed out for some reality

The Smokies are a-callin' me. Sounds oddly like this.. One evening as the sun went down And the jungle fires were burning, Down the track came a hobo hiking, He said, "Boys, I'm not turning I'm heading for a land that's far away Beside the crystal fountain I'll see you all this coming fall In the Big Rock Candy Mountain In the Big Rock Candy Mountain, It's a land that's fair and bright, The handouts grow on bushes And you sleep out every night. The boxcars all are empty And the sun shines every day I'm bound to go Where there ain't no snow Where the sleet don't fall And the winds don't blow In the Big Rock Candy Mountain. In the Big Rock Candy Mountain You never change your socks And little streams of alkyhol Come trickling down the rocks O the shacks all have to tip their hats And the railway bulls are blind There's a lake of stew And gingerale too And you can paddle All around it in a big canoe In the Big Rock Candy Mountain In the Big Rock Candy Mountain The cops have wooden legs The bulldogs all have rubber teeth And the hens lay soft-boiled eggs The farmer's trees are full of fruit And the barns are full of hay I'm bound to go Where there ain't no snow Where the sleet don't fall And the winds don't blow In the Big Rock Candy Mountain. In the Big Rock Candy Mountain, The jails are made of tin. You can slip right out again, As soon as they put you in. There ain't no short-handled shovels, No axes, saws nor picks, I'm bound to stay Where you sleep all day, Where they hung the jerk That invented work In the Big Rock Candy Mountain. attr. to Harry "Haywire Mac" McClintock