If you're ridi

              
ng down the ro

           
ad and you com

e across an ol

d man
            
holding out hi

              
s thumb in the

 
 wind.
            
Clothes are ol

            
d and dirty, t

hat doesn't ma

tter,
            
it's his eyes 

              
that tell you 

            
where he's bee

n.
             
If you're not 

              
afraid to take

      
 your chances 

on a stranger,
            
he might have 

              
some company t

  
o lend.
            
Pull off to th

              
e side, let th

  
e old man have

 a ride. 
            
He'll tell you

              
 all the crazy

             
 things he's s

een.

            
I'm an old hit

            
chhiker, highw

              
ay is the only

        
 home I know.
            
Where you head

              
ed, I don't mi

            
nd. I ain't be

en there in so

me time,
            
but it's just 

              
exactly where 

        
I wanna go.

             
I can tell you

              
 how I started

        
 in the circus

 as a barker 
            
calling people

              
 in from far a

   
nd wide.
            
They never did

            
 regret the do

llar that it c

ost them,
            
we always left

              
 'em feeling g

       
ood inside.
             
We were headed

              
 for Montana w

       
hen we hired u

s a dancer, 
            
her beauty it 

              
was more than 

      
I can say.
            
Then one summe

              
r night she se

     
t my soul on f

ire, 
            
Lord, I wish t

              
hat she was he

           
re with me tod

ay.

            
I'm an old hit

            
chhiker, wonde

              
r what's await

              
ing round the 


bend.
            
I don't know w

              
hat I might se

           
e, I don't nee

d no guarantee

,
            
just a ride fr

              
om here to the

             
re and back ag

ain.

             
I was only sev

              
enteen when I 


took the open 

highway,
            
took it for my

              
 teacher and a

  
 friend.
            
I've been thir

              
ty years of th

        
umbing, some m

ight call it b

umming,
            
it's better th

              
an just crying

        
 in the wind.
             
If you're driv

              
ing down the r

            
oad and you co

me across an o

ld man,
            
holding out hi

              
s thumb in the

 
 rain.
            
You can pull o

              
ff to the side

          
, let the poor

 boy have a ri

de,
            
he can tell yo

              
u all the craz

              
y things he's 


seen.

            
I'm an old hit

            
chhiker, looki

              
ng to the far 

            
side of the hi

ll.
            
Some people sa

              
y I'll settle 

              
down, build a 


home in some s

mall town.
            
But in my hear

              
t I know I nev

   
er will, 
            
I'm an old hit

                  
chhiker.