Текст: Kenny Rogers. San Francisco Mabel Joy.

His daddy was an honest man, red dirt Georgia farmer
His mama lived her short life having kids and baling hay
He had fifteen years, an ache inside to wander
He hopped a freight in Waycross, wound up in L.A.

Lord, the cold nights had no pity on a Waycross Georgia farm boy
Most days he went hungry, then the summer came
He met a girl known on the strip as San Francisco's Mabel Joy
Destitutions child born of an L.A. street called shame

Growing up came quietly in the arms of Mabel Joy
Laughter found their mornings, brought a meaning to his life
Yes, the night before she left, sleep came and left that Waycross
Country boy with dreams of Georgia cotton and a California wife

Sunday morning found him standing 'neath the red light of her door
When a right cross sent him reeling, put him face down on the floor
In place of Mabel Joy he found a merchant mad marine
He growled that Georgia neck is red, but sonny your still green

He turned twenty-one in a gray rock federal prison
The old judge had no mercy for a Waycross Georgia boy
Starin' at those four gray, in silence he would listen
That midnight freight he knew would take him back to Mabel Joy

Sunday morning found him lyin' 'neath the red light of her door
With a bullet in his side he cried have you seen Mabel Joy
Stunned and shaken someone said she's not here no more
She left this house four years today

They say she's looking for some Georgia farm boy