Promised Land Standard tuning. Ah, get on it! I left my home in Norfolk Virginia California on my mind. I straddled that Greyhound, and rode into Raleigh and on across Caroline. We had motor trouble that turned into a struggle, halfway across Alabam'. Well that hound broke down and left us all stranded, in downtown Birmingham. Right away I brought me a through train ticket, ridin' across Mississippi clean. And I was on the midnight flyer out of Birmingham, smokin' into New Orleans. Somebody helped me get out of Louisiana, just to help me get to Houston Town. There are people there who care a little about me, and they won't let the poor boy down. Take it! Sure as you're born they brought me a silk suit, put luggage in my hand. And I woke up high over Albuquerque, on a jet to the promised land. Working on a T-bone steak I had a party, flyin' over to the golden state. Ah 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 zone. Cut your engines and cool your wings, and let me make it to the telephone. Los Angeles give me Norfolk Virginia, tidewater four ten o nine. Tell the folks back home this is the promised land callin', and the poor boy's on the line. Working on a T-bone steak I had a party, flyin' over to the golden state. Ah 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 zone. Cut your engines and cool your wings, and let me make it to the telephone. Los Angeles give me Norfolk Virginia, tidewater four ten o nine. Tell the folks back home this is the promised land callin', and the poor boy's on the line.