There’s a highway that goes from the coast to coast,

From New York town down to Los Angeles;

It's named Will Rogers that traveled that road

From New York town down to Los Angeles.

 

That Sixty-Six highway, the Will Rogers road,

It's lined with jalopies as far as you can see;

With a mighty hot motor and a heavy old load,

From New York town down to Los Angeles.

 

Ten thousand people you see every day,

Camped under the bridges and under the trees;

With rattle trap cars, that have come apart,

From old Oklahoma to Los Angeles.

 

We loved Will Rogers, we loved his smile,

We went to the movies, Will Rogers to see;

We followed him now for many a mile,

From old Oklahoma to Lost Angeles.

 

That Sixty-Six highway it’s mighty hard;

All day you’re hot; all night you freeze;

But we’ve gotta have work so we’re taking a chance

From old Oklahoma to Los Angeles.

 

Will Rogers was born in Oologah,

In the nation of the Cherokee;

And a hundred thousand have followed him now,

From old Oklahoma to Los Angeles.

 

That wind it blowed and the dust got black,

And now wer’re known as refugees.

We’re stranded now on the Sixty-Six highway,

From old Oklahoma to Los Angeles.

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*Used by permission of Woody Guthrie Publications, Inc.