| Couple in the next room |
| Bound to win a prize |
| They’ve been goin' at it all night long |
| I’m tryin' to get some sleep |
| but these motel walls are cheap |
| Lincoln Duncan is my name |
| and here’s my song, here’s my song |
| My father was a fisherman |
| my mama was a fisherman’s friend |
| and I was born into boredom and to chowder |
| So when I reached my prime |
| I left my home in maritimes |
| and headed down the turnpike for New England, sweet New England |
| Holes in my confidence |
| holes in the knees of my jeans |
| I was left without a penny in my pocket |
| Oo-o wee I was about as destituted as a kid could be And I wished I wore a ring |
| so I could hock it I’d like to hock it I seen young girl in a parking lot |
| preaching to a crowd |
| singin sacred songs and |
| reading from the Bible |
| Well I told her I was lost |
| and she told me all about the Pentecost |
| And seein' that girl was the road to my survi-ival |
| Just later on the very same night |
| she crept to my tent with a flashlight |
| and my long years of innocence ended |
| Well she took me to the woods sayin' |
| «Here comes somethin' and it feels so good!» |
| And just like a dog I was befriended |
| I was befriended |
| Oh, oh, what a night |
| Oh what a garden of delight |
| Even now that sweet memory lingers |
| I was playin' my guitar |
| lying underneath the stars |
| Just thankin' the Lord for my fingers |
| for my fingers |