| A | |
| I h | ear the train a coming, it's rolling round the bend |
| A7 | |
| And I ain't seen the sunshine since I don't know wh | en |
| D | A | |
| I'm st | uck at Folsom Prison and time keeps dragging | on |
| E7 | A | |
| But that tr | ain keeps rolling on down to San Ant | one |
| A | |
| When | I was just a baby, my mama told me, Son |
| A7 | |
| Always be a good boy, don't ever play with g | uns |
| D | A | |
| But I sh | ot a man in Reno just to watch him d | ie |
| E7 | |
| When I h | ear that whistle blowing, |
| A | |
| I hang my head and cr | y |
| A | |
| I b | et there's rich folks eating in a fancy dining car |
| A7 | |
| They're probably drinking coffee and smoking big cig | ars |
| D | A | |
| But I kn | ow I had it coming, I know I can't be fr | ee |
| E7 | A | |
| But those p | eople keep a moving, and that's what tortures m | e |
| A | |
| Well if they fr | eed me from this prison, if that railroad train was mine |
| A7 | |
| I bet I'd move on a little farther down the l | ine |
| D | A | |
| F | ar from Folsom Prison, that's where I want to st | ay |
| E7 | A | |
| And I'd l | et that lonesome whistle blow my blues aw | ay |
