G                    C
Roadside Motor Court 
               G         C
Cabins Made of Sandstone 
           G
And to the travellers of the mother road 
C                     G     C
She was a port in the storm 

Now if those walls could talk 

Oh, the stories the could tell son 

And that roadside motor court 

It'd keep you safe and warm 
            D
Now there's holes in the roof 
            C
And there's weeds at the door 
           D
That motor courts still there, 
               C                    G    C
but that don't see no travellers no more 
 
Guess who used to grow cotton 

on these tired old farms 

Yeah they'd load the wagons time and time again 

With their weary old arms 

They'd make a little money at the gin 

Pay a little credit at the store 

Yeah the scratched and the worked the land 

Till the dirt got poor 

Now that cotton gin is some kind of second hand store 

Yeah the building's there, 

But they don't gin no cotton no more 
 
Yeah they used to go dancing 

Down at the Log Cabin Bar 

Yeah they'd be laughing, carrying on 

Make a little love in the car 

And they'd spread that sawdust down 

On a concrete floor 

They'd dance all night 

Until they're feet got sore 
 
Till one Sunday Morning 

They had the law burn her down 

Now there aint no place for us to go Dancin 

In this one horse town 

Yeah, we used to dance in this town 
 
Yeah! 

Solo