Chicken Bill

Well I was born in a small border town
And I left home at a young age and headed on down
And I started walking
Following a white line
I was on the side of a wild rush end freeway
With one pair of clothes and nothing else to my name
When a lorry would pass I would pick myself up with
A new coat of grit and a fresh layer of dust
I was dirty, fully covered
And just when the dirt started stinging my eyes
And I couldn't decide the ground from the sky
A man pulled over and offered a ride
So I took it, I ran right over
And I got in his truck and sat perfectly still
And he said, "I just gotta stop off at the mill"
I said, "You can take me wherever you will"
And I asked him, "What do they call you?"
And he answered, "Chicken Bill, they call me Chicken Bill"
Well, on account of the dirt he thought I was a man
And he reached out his mint and he shook my filthy hand
He said, "Boy, I got me a farm 'round the bend
And I could sure use the help if you got time to land,
Catching chickens, chopping their head off, locking them up"
All right, run around
So I worked for old Bill and his beautiful wife
Who would cook up a chicken for us every night
And just when I thought everything was alright
He sat me down, he said "I'm skipping town, going around"
And I said, "How could you live such a woman behind?"
Then the look on his face helped me open my eyes
And for the first time I saw Chicken Bill's other side
He sat down beside me, all nervous and shy
And he told me the real story of Chicken Bill