Couple in the next room bound to win a prize: they've been going at it all night long! Well, 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 in the boredom and the chowder. So when I reached my prime I left my home in the Maritimes, 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-oowee, 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
A young girl in a parkin' lot was preaching to a crowd, singing sacred songs and reading from the Bible. Well, I told her I was lost and she told all about the Pentecost, and I seen that girl as the road to my survival, my survival.
Just later on the very same night when I crept to her tent with a flashlight and my long years of innocence ended: well, she took me to the woods, sayin' "Here comes something, 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 playing my guitar lyin' underneath the stars just thankin' the Lord for my fingers, for my fingers