I got in a little trouble At the county seat Lord, they put me in the jail house For loafin' on the street Well, the judge said guilty He made his point He said, "Forty five dollars Or thirty days in the joint" "That'll be cash on the barrelhead, hon You can take your choice You're twenty one No money down No credit plan No time to chase you 'Cause I'm a busy man" I found a telephone number On a laundry slip I had a good, hardy jailor With a six gun hip He let me call long distance She said, "Number, please" An' just as soon as I told her She shouted back at me Said, "That'll be cash on the barrelhead, hon Not part, not half But the entire sum No money down No credit line 'Cause a little boy tells me You're the travelin' kind" Thirty days in the jail house Four days on the road I was feelin' mighty hungry My feet, a heavy load I saw a Greyhound comin' Stuck out my thumb As soon as I was seated The driver caught my arm Said, "That'll be cash on the barrelhead, hon This old, gray dog gets paid to run When the engine starts An' the wheels will roll Give me cash on the barrelhead I take you down the road Cash on the barrelhead I take you down the road"