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In the early morning rain with a dollar in my hand, with an achin' in my heart and my pockets full of sand.
I'm a long way from home and I miss my darlin' so. In the early mornin' rain, with no place to go.
Out on runway number nine, big seven-o-seven set to go but I'm stuck here on the grass where them cold winds blow.
Yeah, the liquor tasted good and the women all were fast. Ah, but there she goes, my friend, though she's rollin' out at last.
Hear the mighty engines roar. See the silver wing on high. She's a-wingin' westward bound. High above the clouds she'll fly
Where the morning rains don't fall and the sun always shines. She'll be flyin' o'er my home in about three hours time.
This old airport's got me down. It's no earthly good to me 'cause I'm stuck here on the ground cold and drunk as I can be.
You can't jump a jet plane like you can a freight train. So, I best be on my way in the early mornin' rain.