1. |
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We met in a bedroom where romance was found, this woman and man for whom love was bound. Let me tell you the tale of these lovers two, the things this will do when it happens to you. We did not see the light of day, would not even come out and play. If you had offered the world as pay, still wouldn’t trade it for the flowers in May.
Love it seemed could not get more real as through every touch electricity peeled. Like the crack of thunder, the way I feel, under your gaze where all was revealed.
Where emotionally enraptured and captured I dwelt, in the bossum of wildness unshackled unbound. Your skin, your hair, hearts beating that sound…mystical key, magical world was found. We did not see the light of day, would not even come out and play, for too great was the play going on inside, every nuance and spark, everything in our eyes.
At the foot of it all, honestly and true, came both of us forwards with all that we knew. Whether easy of fearful, forbidden to do, came at it ferociously, delightfully too. We did not see this thing they call day, though nine suns did pass us all along the way. They went up they went down, what can I say? No words could compare to this love anyways…
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2. |
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Well the ugliest bitterest coldest dreary place I’ve ever seen, dwells and sprawls and honks rude calls and towers over me. It makes me wanna howl, it makes me wanna scream. It’s the ugliest, bitterest, coldest dreary place I’ve ever seen. Oh, but some of the people living there keep us so alive and free. You know the place I’ve singing about its called the big city. I sing it in the streets, I sing it in the bars. The folks that never get to hear it are the ones inside their cars. Aw, but I guess that’s kind of like poetic justice on death row – I breath exhaust and pay the cost but they’ll never ever know about this yodel a hee…
Yodel
The ugliest bitterest coldest dreary place I’ve ever seen got me down and lonesome blue, I don’t know what to do. It often makes me sigh and on occasion makes me cry. It’s the ugliest, bitterest, coldest dreary place I’ve ever seen. Right now I know just what some of yous here tonight are thinking of, “That stupid guy with his dumb guitar should pack right up and shove off”. But well the stupid guy, I seen him leave just a little while ago. These words he said to me will you please finish up my show. My heart is oh so dreary from singing all day long, the ugliest, bitterest, coldest dreary place I’ve ever seen. It’s got this yodel a hee…
Yodel
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3. |
Lonesome
03:12
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Was Hank Williams lonely or was he just blue? Are “Lonely” and “Blue” the same words to you? Hank kinda told us that the blues got him down, but music is coloured with a lonelier sound.
The sound of the wind mixes up in my mind. Stirring up the saddest most beautiful times. Do you really find it hard to understand that beauty and sadness can go hand in hand?
LONESOME, am I lonesome? Some of you folks call it “lonely”.
LONESOME, sure thing to be lonesome; just be born, there you go, can’t you see?
Why all you ‘fraidy cats go afraid from that word? In a word it’s what stray cattins’ about. To be wild and to wander alone on this earth; unchained, untethered, unbound.
One day you’ll be there looking death in the eye, then you’ll come to understand this lonely guy. How each and every footstep, the same as the last, was leading you here, becoming your past.
LONESOME, am I lonesome? Some of you folks call it “lonely”.
LONESOME, sure thing to be lonesome; just be born, there you go, can’t you see?
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4. |
Heavy and Lonesome
06:51
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Something in my heart so heavy and lonesome, yet I can’t say what it is. Rain keeps falling on this Vancouver night, ‘splash’, step by step I’m lost again
Wonderous and wild-eyed was the way that I walked, so self-assured, and weightless it seemed…like the way that I walked when I was walking with you and it seemed just like yesterday, yesterday…and it seems just like only a dream…
Dreams…only it dreams…dreaming
Something so bleak and blackening inside, maybe a memory of those bygone days? Keeps calling like the rain on this Vancouver night, calling on my mind again
Wonderous and wild-eyed was the way that I walked, when I first stepped onto these streets. And now here that I stand, so lonely and blue, but what am I now to do, what to do, but sit here and cry over you?
Wild-eyed and wreckless was me. That’s just a way to be born don’t you see? I’ll just have to trust that’s it’s just meant to be…
How can one lift what’s so heavy and lonesome like some fog upon some great wide sea? Or maybe it’s more like a river that’s rolling, can’t tell it which way to be.
Wonderous and wild-eyed was the way that I walked, when I first stepped into my dreams. And now here that I stand so lonesome and blue but don’t you go have pity on me. No don’t you go have pity on me.
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5. |
Urban Landscape
04:02
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URBAN LANDSCAPE rolls across my mind, just like you, just like you, all the time, all the time.
Through every little crack in the pavement there was a guiding light. The green green grass of home, sprouting through a city night, a city night just like this.
As I followed the trail of tears I know you dropped that fateful eve…I know it’s been now many a year but still I stew and sit and grieve, I sit and grieve just like this.
“I remember reading the police report, some lost information I’d found. I knew then that your death wasn’t accidental, someone had taken you down. You were such a beautiful person, so wild and care cares free. Made it easy for me to believe at the time, the facts as presented to me. But I was down at the jail last week, talking to a friend on death row. He said he had some information for me, ‘Something you outta know!’ You can imagine my surprise when he revealed his secret to me. He said you were still alive living here in Vancouver, BC – Vancouver, BC”
URBAN LANDSCAPE rolls across my mind, just like you, just like you, all the time, all the time.
I sought you out on the city streets, down around Pender and Main. That’s where all the prostitutes meet, down and out, with all the pain, junkies strung along old skid row.
There an old leathered and weathered lady by the name of Moe told me the story of how you died. How you really weren’t still alive, you weren’t alive on old skid row.
“It was a cruel and heartless death they had planned and all laid out for you. You who were so outspoken with your mind, ideas and political views. You were a one of a kind and lighting other minds on fire. You were making a change in the world creating a dream from a funeral pyre. And you were involved in a mighty thing they called AIM. And when your body was found your hands were not bound but simply cut off, not there. There was a bullet in the back of your head, and the F.B.I. was involved. Soon all America would frown from within and want to puke up it’s guts from all the greed, dishonesty and hate. While Anna Mae lies under the ground and we weep, we weep…"
URBAN LANDSCAPE rolls across my mind, just like you, just like you, all the time, all the time.
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6. |
Blindly Wander
04:11
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7. |
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An anchor dropped off of a boat and sank, and sank, and sank…but reached no bottom of the sea. For so deep were the waters around it, like my heart that has been wounded by this one lost love.
Lightning…lightning flashed and cradled the clouds for moments of beauty and peace; while the sideways rain and the wind tore up the sails and ripped out the shrouds…
Oh the raging waves rolled over the bow of the tiny boat that couldn’t be sunk. Just dragged it’s deep sea anchor around, and around, and around…
My heart, my heart is sinking…deeper and deeper into my chest. Like this anchor that finds no bottom of the sea. Ever seeking solid ground, solid ground.
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8. |
Blues in My Heart
03:19
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9. |
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(Recitation into)
“I dreamt that I was back in school, there was a test I had to pass. But I couldn’t find the room, I‘d skipped too many classes. So I was doomed to never graduate. I gave up ‘cause I assumed it was too late. I awoke to find I wasn’t seventeen. No! I was old and grey. This realization was a drag, here’s what I had to say…”
1-2-3-4 I Don’t Have To Go To High School. No, I Don’t Have To Go To High School.
Life since school’s been up and down, poor heart’s been thrashed and stomped upon. Some jobs were brutal, some bosses cruel, but one idea got me through. One thing I know was true…
I Don’t Have To Go To High School. No, I Don’t Have To Go To High School.
I try to sleep and lie awake, getting old’s no piece of cake. You watch your friends and family die while staring at a starless sky. Mocked even by the constellations, still I find constant consolation that…
I Don’t Have To Go To High School. No, I Don’t Have To Go To High School.
There’s things that I don’t care to share. I think there’s things I don’t even dare to think about. Bewilderment, it clouds the mind, but there’s one I have no doubt, in fact I am inclined to shout…
I Don’t Have To Go To High School. No, I Don’t Have To Go To High School.
I’ve been half-starved, I’ve been defeated and I’ve slept out on the streets. I’ve mopped floors and I’ve dug ditches while power hungry sons of bitches turned this planet into a cesspool. That’s what those assholes call successful! I’m a failure, I’m a fool, but still I think it’s kind of cool that…
I Don’t Have To Go To High School. No, I Don’t Have To Go To High School. I Don’t Have To Go To High School. No, I Don’t Have To Go To High School.
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10. |
Too Long
02:56
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11. |
Jeanie Jeanie
02:42
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Jeanie, Jeanie come back soon. You wanna roll in the afternoon?
Jeanie, Jeanie feelin’ right when you go and you hold me tight
My rockin’ angel. A sight to me with your sweet fine company
Jeanie, Jeanie just can’t be? So gorgeous, so gracious to me… Just like I wish to be
She come a callin’, Monday gig. She really does it when she holds my leg.
Some days I feel I just can’t wait. Make my stand so tall and straight.
Like a ripe tomato round, she keeps me rollin’, keeps me Jeanie bound.
Jeanie, Jeanie just can’t be? So gorgeous, so gracious to me… Just like I wish to be
Was a warm and balmy night. We were lovin’ beneath the pale streetlight.
She pulled me in like I love her to, and touched me like I wanted her to.
We undressed beneath the naked moon, causin’ us to laugh and swoon
Jeanie, Jeanie take me down to your loving charms and loving arms. So glad, glad to be found.
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12. |
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Little Jesse was a gambler, night and day. He used crooked cards and dice. He was a sensible boy, good-hearted but had no soul. And his heart was hard and cold like ice. Little Jesse was a wild reckless gambler, won a gang of change, and many gamblers hearts he left insane. Little Jesse began to lose his money but he was all alone and his heart had even turned to stone. The police walked up and shot my friend Jesse down., says, “Boys I got to die today”. He had a gang of gamblers and crapshooters by his bedside, but these words he had to say, “I guess I ought to know how I wants to go”
“How you wanna go Jesse?”
“I want eight crapshooters for my pall bearers. Let ‘em all be dressed in black. I want nine men going to the graveyard, but only eight men coming back. I want a gang of gamblers and crapshooters at my bedside, put a crooked card, spread it on my hearse. Don’t say that a crapshooter will even breath over me, my life any dog gone curse. Send poker players to the graveyard. Dig my grave with the ace of spades. I want twelve policeman in my field march, I say playing Blackjack, leading the parade. I want the judges to be listed who jailed me fourteen times. Take a pair of dice and shake ‘em in my shoes. Let a deck of cards be my tombstone, I’ve got the Dying Crapshooter’s Blues. I want sixteen real good crapshooters, sixteen bootleggers to sing a song. Sixteen buckriders gambling in a tended, covered bar while we’re rolling along”.
He wanted twenty-two women down on DeHaviland hotel, twenty-six on the South Beale. Twenty-nine women out of North Atlanta know that little Jesse didn’t pass out so swell.
His head was aching, his heart was pumpin’. Little Jesse went down bouncin’ and jumpin’.
“Folks don’t be standin’ around!”, Jesse cried. He wants everybody to do the Charleston while he died.
One foot up, a toe-nail dragging, throw my buddy Jesse in the hoodoo wagon.
“Come here mamma with that can of booze, I got the Dying Crapshooter’s Blues, ‘passin’ out’, with the Dying Crapshooter’s Blues
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Petunia Vancouver, British Columbia
Hank Williams on acid…Tom Waits meets Elvis at Woody Guthrie's Hobojunction...their sound may not sit in any one music genre, so perhaps “Good Music” describes it best? Hillbilly-flavoured-swing inflected-ragtime-goodtime-thunderously rolling-one-of-a-kind-you-don’t-want-to-miss-this-sort-of-a-show…springboards off music of the past jumping into the present day - only echoes of the past remain ... more
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