Bus Fare Home

Phil and Bill left the farm down in Possum's Fork
Put their guitars over their backs and headed for New York
Lord, don't try to stop us now, we're gonna hit big time
But all they hit was a pile of snow without a cryin' dime

And they cried, "Ma (Yeah), Ma (Yeah)
Send our bus fare home (What's that?)
Ma (Mmm), Ma, all our money's gone (Too bad)
We miss you, Pa, we miss you, Pa, we miss your cookin' too
Ma (Yeah), Ma (Mmm), we're depending on you-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo"

Eighty, ninety, a hundred dollars, Pa said, "It 'bout time
To hurry home and pick this cotton for it all down"
They got their money, but they said, "We should try once more"
But Phil and Bill had no luck and soon they had no dough

And they cried, "Ma (Yeah), Ma (What's the matter, boy?)
Send our bus fare home (Mmm)
Ma (Yeah), Ma (Mm-mm), all our money's gone (Too bad)
We miss you, Ma, we miss you, Pa, we miss your cookin' too
Ma (Mmm), Ma (Yeah), we're depending on you-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo"

Ma said, "Yes," and Pa said, "No," he put us in a tree
You boys done got off in New York, you done got city sleeve
If you want to get home, boys, we will say a prayer
Better head for the highway, boys, with your thumb up in the air

And they cried, "Ma (Yeah), Ma (Did you hear, son?)
Send our bus fare home (Mm-mm)
Ma (Yeah), Ma (Yeah), all our money's gone"