Early Mornin' Rain, ©1964 by Gordon Lightfoot  
                                                   
In the early mornin' rain with a dollar in my hand 
With an aching in my heart and my pockets full of sand
I'm a long way from home and I miss my loved ones so 
In the early mornin' rain with no place to go 
                                                   
Out on runway number nine, big seven-o-seven set to go
But I'm stuck here in the grass where the cold wind blows
Now the liquor tasted good and the women all were fast
Well now there she goes my friend, well she's rolling down at last
                                                   
Hear the mighty engines roar, see the silver bird on high
She's away and westward bound, far above the clouds she'll fly
Where the mornin' rain don't fall and the sun always shines
She'll be flying o'er my home in about three hours time
                                                   
This old airport's got me down, it's no earthly good to me
'Cause I'm stuck here on the ground, as cold and drunk as I can be
You can't jump a jet plane like you can a freight train
So I'd best be on my way in the early mornin' rain

You can't jump a jet plane, like you can a freight train
So I'd best be on my way in the early mornin' rain