Ten Miles Up the Trail

I didn’t come here to sell you anything

If you want something, I want to show you where it is hidden

If you forget and come back tomorrow

I will hide it again

Offer me all your gold for my treasure map

I’ll toss it out the window of our moving train

I was born in the caboose

And I’ll die in the engine

Come up to the lodge

Show the boys your brush collection

They can smell your bootblack

Ten miles up the trail

Soap up your washboard

Really scrub those old philosophies

The stains will wash right out

But a musty smell still lingers

No matter what you do