My name is Charlie Brennan; from Charlestown I come. I've traveled this wide world over, some ups and downs I've had, I've traveled this wide world over, some ups and downs I've saw, But I never really knew what misery was till I hit old Arkansas. Spoken: Got off the train in Little Rock the middle of winter; nobody there even to extend to me his paw nor bid me welcome to the State of Arkansas. And it was cold. I dodged behind the depot to dodge that blizzard wind; I met a walking skeleton; he said his name was Thomas Quinn. Well, his hair hung down in rat tails on his lean and lantern jaw; He invited me to his hotel; he said it was the best in Arkansas. I followed my conductor to his respected place Where pity and starvation were to be seen on every face. Well, his bread it was corn dodger, and his meat I could not chaw, But he charged me half a dollar in the State of Arkansas. Spoken: Then I went out and got me a job on a farm farmin'. But I didn't care for the work, or the farmer or his wife and none of his children. So I went up to him one day and I said, "Mister, I'm going to quit this job and you can just pay me off right now." He says, "Okay, son, if that's the way you feel about it." And he took me out in the barn and he handed me a mink skin. And I said, "I don't want this thing. I want my money for the work I've done." He says, "Son, you may not know it, but mink skins is what we're using for currency down here now." So I took it. Went into town. Hunted up a place. Put my mink skin up on the counter and darned if the bartender didn't toss me a pint. Then he picked up my mink skin, blowed the hair back on it, put it under the counter, fetched me out fourteen rabbit skins and three possum hides for change. I'm going to the Indian Territory and live outside the law; I'll bid farewell to the canebrakes in the State of Arkansas. If you ever see me back again, I'll extend to you my paw, But it'll be through a telescope from Hell to Arkansas.