Goin' down to Texas where you can't see the top of their hats That's fat-cat country, Thank you, honey, put the money in the sack Makin' oil my middle name, gonna play the rich man's game Goin' down to Texas, I'm ready, Paul Getty step back
I've got the black gold fever and my temperature's runnin' high You've got to quench your thirst when your mouth is cotton dry And just like the preacher's call, I've gotta go, that's all I want black gold livin', I'm givin' my luck a try
Black gold fever, my momma said Will leave you flat and cold and probably dead Listen to your heart and not your head, boy I'm prayin' you get the gospel fever instead
Well, I hear the clickity-clack of the railroad track Goin' down there, son, where the gold is black Though somethin's tellin' me somethin' ain't right Put the Bible back on the shelf Said, son get a hold of yourself You want black gold livin' there ain't no lookin' back
Well, I cancelled my order when I crossed over And the train hit the border line And my Bible-beltin' momma and the words she spoke Suddenly came to mind I said the words she spoke to me Brought me to my ever-lovin' knees That's when I left that black gold fever forever behind
Black gold fever, my momma said Will leave you flat and cold and probably dead So I listened to my heart and not my head Now I've got that Gospel fever Got that Gospel fever Got that Gospel fever, praise God, instead!