| You can’t buy me, baby, with your silver |
| You can’t buy me, baby, with your gold |
| And I don’t care if your daddy’s rich and famous |
| Baby, I ain’t never, ever comin' home |
| Now, If my parents ask you where I’m goin' |
| Then tell 'em that I come out here to the West Country |
| And if you get worried and think I need your high-tone advice |
| Well listen, baby, please don’t talk to me |
| 'Cause you wrote me a letter, and you told me that I was crazy |
| Didn’t even have 'nuff schoolin' to be a bum |
| Let me tell you there’s a highway for the askin' |
| You can bet your bottom dollar that I want some |
| Oh, you can’t buy me, baby, with your silver |
| You can’t buy me, baby, with your gold |
| And I don’t care if your daddy’s rich and famous |
| Baby, I ain’t never, ever comin' home |
| As long as I got my guitar in my hand |
| Long as my pretty lady’s right by my side |
| And I don’t want your big black Cadillac comin' 'round my door |
| 'Cause there’s plenty of fast freight trains that I’d rather ride |
| Let me tell you 'bout my first friend, he’s in jail |
| Second friend is married as he can be |
| And the third friend he’s on bail |
| So let me tell you, gal, that I wanna be free |
| You can’t buy me, baby, with your silver |
| And you can’t buy me, baby, with your gold |
| I don’t care if your daddy is rich and famous, and he is |
| 'Cause, baby, I ain’t never, ever comin' home |