One evening as the sun went down, and the jungle fire was burning,
down the tracks came a hobo hiking, and he said, "boys I'm not turning,
I'm headed for a land that's far away, beside the crystal fount.
So come with me we'll go and see, the Big Rock Candy Mountains.

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains, there's a land that's fair and bright,
Where the handouts grow on bushes, and you sleep out every night.
Where the boxcars all are empty, and the sun shines every day,
on the birds and the bees and the cigarette trees,
the lemonade springs where the bluebird sings,
in the Big Rock Candy Mountains.

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains, all the cops have wooden legs,
and the bulldogs all have rubber teeth, and the hens lay soft boiled eggs.
The farmers trees are full of fruit, and the barns are full of hay.
Well I'm bound to go where there ain't no snow,
where the rain don't fall and the wind don't blow,
in the Big Rock Candy Mountains.

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains, you never change your socks,
and the little streams of alcohol, come a tricklin' down the rocks.
The brakemen have to tip their hats, and the railroad bulls are blind.
There's a lake of stew and of whisky too,
you can paddle all around 'em in a big canoe,
in the Big Rock Candy Mountains.

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains, the jails are made of tin,
and you can walk right out again, as soon as you are in.
There ain't no short handled shovels, no axes, saws, or picks.
I'm a-going to stay where you sleep all day,
where they hung the Turk that invented work
in the Big Rock Candy Mountains.

I'll see you all this comin' fall in the Big Rock Candy Mountains."