"This is dedicated to any smugglers who may be in the audience . . .," J. Dawson of The New Riders of the Purple Sage begins.


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Now every year along about this time it all runs dry
Nothin round for love or money that it will get you high
Henry got his truck and said he’d run to Mexico
See if he could come back holding twenty keeves of gold

Now the road to Acapulco is very hard indeed
And it isn’t any better if you haven’t any weed
Henry’s drivin' hard and straight on twistin mountain roads
All those people waiting back at home for Henry’s lode

Now he’s rolling down the mountain goin’ fast fast fast
If he blows it this one’s gonna be his last
Go to Acapulco, to turn the golden keys
Henry keep your breaks on for this corner if you please

Henry got to Mexico and turned his truck around
He’s talkin with the man who has it growin from the ground
Henry tasted he got wasted couldn’t even see
How he’s gonna drive like that is not too clear to me

Now he’s rolling down the mountain . . .

Sunday afternoon Tihuana is a lovely town
Bull fights on and tourists all around
Border guards are much too busy there at five o’clock
Henry could fly right through, he hardly even stopped

Now he’s rolling down the mountain . . .