Hang me, oh hang me, from the old sycamore,

Let the moon be my witness, the wind my rapport.

I’ve rambled and gambled this lonesome valley through,

Left my heart in the dust where the wild roses grew.

No gold in my pockets, no pardon in sight,

Just a prayer for the dawn and a whisper goodnight.

So hang me, oh hang me, let the coyotes sing low,

For the road I was born on’s the only home I know.

Chain hang low, swing like a pendulum,

Ice so bright, make a rainbow spectrum;

Wrist do the talk, no need for lecture,

Every step I take, watch the diamonds texture.

From the curb to the club, links clink like rhythm,

Boys see the gleam, girls see the vision;

Momma said shine, but never be a victim—

So I hustle that glow, every minute, every system.