Lyrics: Robert Hunter
Music: Robert Hunter
My misfortune was your good luck
On the spot when I came unstuck
Slipped inside when I blinked an eye
Pedal to the metal and watch it fly
My confusion was your main chance
Fly this thing by the seat of my pants
but pants were down, or so to speak,
four in the morning cheek to cheek
When everything's said and done
Ain't it a son of a gun?
Never was a seventh son
But I sometimes feel like one
I got a mama so fine and fair
She wears red roosters in her hair
Don't give a damn if I live or die
Breaks my heart to hear her cry
Born in Nevada in forty-four
I ain't gonna study war no more
Stuck in Lala strummin' my lip
Like a rat deserting a sinking ship
When everything's said and done
Ain't it a son of a gun?
Never was a seventh son - no, no
But I sometimes feel like one
Six big sisters raised me right
I got respect, I do not fight
I don't rattle before I bite
Plug me in, I will rock all night
Cherokee Nation in Katmandu
Road Kill Sally to Slewfoot Sue
Calculate later, what can I do?
Sittin' duck for a woman like you
When everything's said and done
Ain't it a son of a gun?
Never was a seventh son - no, no
But I sometimes feel like one
Not like a Seventh Son
No, not like a Seventh Son
When everything's said and done
Oh no, I'm not like a seventh son