Up in Biddeford, Maine
Ragged worn and scarred
Her face was aged with care
But her hands are what caught my eye
I could not help but stare
They were careful as they moved
As though they had been trained and known
I could tell by her moving fingers
All her life she had sewn
I asked her but one question
She gave but one reply
She sewed my denim very well
Then tears fell from her eyes

Now down in New Orleans
I wondered quite a while
I recall a gypsy woman
She had a lovely smile
Her hands were soft and smooth
Her fingers kind to touch
She read my fortune cracked laugh
And said
You don't talk much

over ways in Georgia
I climbed upon a pine
I saw a preacher 6 feet tall
His hands were built like mine

And cross the mile in Memphis
Across through Tennessee I fell in love with a woman
But she sure did not love me

Over out California as west as you can go
I found me a lady who
The prettiest one I've ever known

the wintered chilled Alaska
over on Ice peak
I found a comfy sledding dog
he saved me from the street

Upon the sea in New York where ocean meets the bay
I caught a bullet in the lung from some guy named Jay

Though I've traveled far
and seen a lot of lands
I never a seen hands like yours
Since Christ has died for man