Take these shoes so I can fly away;
they were fine when I was running.
Hear my voice as it fades away,
now listen 'cause it's coming, coming.

Through the reigns and legs and air,
a messenger is coming.

March is stormy and April's gay,
May is warm and June is sunny.
We've both got our bills to pay,
but who will pay for all this money?

Through this hazy summer day
a messenger is coming.

Give me his word that he's far away
and give my love to old remembrance.
I'll sell my father's farm away-
what would I do with all that rock and clay?
I'll buy a boat that I'll sail to mercy
and a knife to kill the messenger.

Through this hazy summer day
a messenger is coming.

Hear my voice as it fades,
away.