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Hard Luck Saint
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He said he discovered America with nothin' but a paper sack The first sight he remembered was the Statue of Liberty's back. He lost his mama on the Brooklyn street when he was just thirteen He made his way out west; he'd seen some pictures in a magazine He worked a while as a roughneck in the Floydada Black Oil fields And the Fat Oilmen of Texas would watch him a-tap his heels As the oil poured in and the cotton grew and the Cadillacs fell like rain He did the work of a dozen men and never did complain If you added up his troubles they'd fill the prairie sky But he lived more in an hour than most men in their lives He never preached a sermon and an angel he ain't But anyone can tell you he's a Hard Luck Saint He worked his way to a cotton town down Highway 84 And that is where i met him in a used clothing store With my mama and my papa, little Mark and Muleshoe Bill I still remember tearstains on a


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