Posted on 02/26/2005 1:13:23 PM PST by HairOfTheDog
I love a good lyric… imagery in words that remind us of a great character, place or state of mind, even if we've never been there. I wanted to collect and share a few classics that I think are more than a song, they do more than make you want to sing along. They tell an engaging story. These are my favorites that I could think of… I am sure you have some too. I hope you can listen to them, because though the lyrics are good, they are cold without the environment of their music.
In no particular order…
THE WRECK OF THE EDMUND FITZGERALD
Gordon Lightfoot
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they called ’Gitche Gumee’
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
When the skies of November turn gloomy
With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more
Than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty.
That good ship and true was a bone to be chewed
When the gales of November came early.
The ship was the pride of the American side
Coming back from some mill in Wisconsin
As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most
With a crew and good captain well seasoned
Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
When they left fully loaded for Cleveland
And later that night when the ship’s bell rang
Could it be the north wind they’d been feelin’?
The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
And a wave broke over the railing
And every man knew, as the captain did too,
T’was the witch of November come stealin’.
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
When the gales of November came slashin’.
When afternoon came it was freezin’ rain
In the face of a hurricane west wind.
When suppertime came, the old cook came on deck sayin’.
Fellas, it’s too rough to feed ya.
At seven p.m. a main hatchway caved in, he said
Fellas, it’s been good t’know ya
The captain wired in he had water comin’ in
And the good ship and crew was in peril.
And later that night when his lights went outta sight
Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.
Does any one know where the love of God goes
When the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searches all say they’d have made whitefish bay
If they’d put fifteen more miles behind her.
They might have split up or they might have capsized;
May have broke deep and took water.
And all that remains is the faces and the names
Of the wives and the sons and the daughters.
Lake Huron rolls, superior sings
In the rooms of her ice-water mansion.
Old Michigan steams like a young man’s dreams;
The islands and bays are for sportsmen.
And farther below lake Ontario
Takes in what lake Erie can send her,
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
With the gales of November remembered.
In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed,
In the maritime sailors’ cathedral.
The church bell chimed till it rang twenty-nine times
For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald.
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call ’Gitche Gumee’.
Superior, they said, never gives up her dead
When the gales of November come early!
THE GUNNER'S DREAM
Pink Floyd (Waters)
Floating down through the clouds
Memories come rushing up to meet me now.
In the space between the heavens
and in the corner of some foreign field
I had a dream.
I had a dream.
Good-bye Max.
Good-bye Ma.
After the service when you're walking slowly to the car
And the silver in her hair shines in the cold November air
You hear the tolling bell
And touch the silk in your lapel
And as the tear drops rise to meet the comfort of the band
You take her frail hand
And hold on to the dream.
A place to stay
"Oi! A real one ..."
Enough to eat
Somewhere old heroes shuffle safely down the street
Where you can speak out loud
About your doubts and fears
And what's more no-one ever disappears
You never hear their standard issue kicking in your door.
You can relax on both sides of the tracks
And maniacs don't blow holes in bandsmen by remote control
And everyone has recourse to the law
And no-one kills the children anymore.
And no one kills the children anymore.
Night after night
Going round and round my brain
His dream is driving me insane.
In the corner of some foreign field
The gunner sleeps tonight.
What's done is done.
We cannot just write off his final scene.
Take heed of his dream.
Take heed.
THE LAST RESORT
The Eagles
She came from Providence,
The one in Rhode island
Where the old world shadows hang
Heavy in the air
She packed her hopes and dreams
Like a refugee
Just as her father came across the sea
She heard about a place people were smilin’
They spoke about the red man’s way,
And how they loved the land
And they came from everywhere
To the great divide
Seeking a place to stand
Or a place to hide
Down in the crowded bars,
Out for a good time,
Can’t wait to tell you all,
What it’s like up there
And they called it paradise
I don’t know why
Somebody laid the mountains low
While the town got high
Then the chilly winds blew down
Across the desert
Through the canyons of the coast, to
The Malibu
Where the pretty people play,
Hungry for power
To light their neon way
And give them things to do
Some rich men came and raped the land,
Nobody caught ’em
Put up a bunch of ugly boxes, and Jesus People bought ’em
And they called it paradise
The place to be
They watched the hazy sun, sinking in the sea
You can leave it all behind
And sail to Lahaina
Just like the missionaries did, so many years ago
They even brought a neon sign: ’Jesus is coming’
Brought the white man’s burden down
Brought the white man’s reign
Who will provide the grand design?
What is yours and what is mine?
’cause there is no more new frontier
We have got to make it here
We satisfy our endless needs and
Justify our bloody deeds,
In the name of destiny and the name
Of god
And you can see them there,
On Sunday morning
They stand up and sing about
What it’s like up there
They call it paradise
I don’t know why
You call someplace paradise,
Kiss it goodbye
THE DOWNEASTER ALEXA
Billy Joel
Well I’m on the Downeaster Alexa
And I’m cruising through block island sound
I have chartered a course to the vineyard
But tonight I am Nantucket bound
We took on diesel back in Montauk yesterday
And left this morning from the bell in Gardner's bay
Like all the locals here I’ve had to sell my home
Too proud to leave I worked my fingers to the bone
So I could own my Downeaster Alexa
And I go where the ocean is deep
There are giants out there in the canyons
And a good captain can’t fall asleep
I’ve got bills to pay and children who need clothes
I know there’s fish out there but where God only knows
They say these waters aren’t what they used to be
But I’ve got people back on land who count on me
So if you see my Downeaster Alexa
And if you work with the rod and the reel
Tell my wife I am trolling Atlantis
And I still have my hands on the wheel
Now I drive my Downeaster Alexa
More and more miles from shore every year
Since they told me I can’t sell no stripers
And there’s no luck in swordfishing here
I was a bayman like my father was before
Can’t make a living as a bayman anymore
There ain’t much future for a man who works the sea
But there ain’t no island left for islanders like me
ALLENTOWN
Billy Joel
Well we’re living here in Allentown
And they’re closing all the factories down
Out in Bethlehem they’re killing time
Filling out forms
Standing in line
Well our fathers fought the second world war
Spent their weekends on the jersey shore
Met our mothers in the USO
Asked them to dance
Danced with them slow
And we’re living here in Allentown
But the restlessness was handed down
And it’s getting very hard to stay
Well we’re waiting here in Allentown
For the Pennsylvania we never found
For the promises our teachers gave
If we worked hard
If we behaved
So the graduations hang on the wall
But they never really helped us at all
No they never taught us what was real
Iron and coke
And chromium steel
And we’re waiting here in Allentown
But they’ve taken all the coal from the ground
And the union people crawled away
Every child had a pretty good shot
To get at least as far as their old man got
But something happened on the way to that place
They threw an American flag in our face
Well I’m living here in Allentown
And it’s hard to keep a good man down
But I won’t be getting up today
And it’s getting very hard to stay
And we’re living here in Allentown
ROFLMAO!
You're kidding!
Ode to Billie Jo.......Bobbie Gentry
It was the third of June, another sleepy, dusty Delta day
I was out choppin' cotton and my brother was balin' hay
And at dinner time we stopped and walked back to the house to eat
And Mama hollered out the back door "y'all remember to wipe your feet"
And then she said "I got some news this mornin' from Choctaw Ridge"
"Today Billy Joe MacAllister jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge"
And Papa said to Mama as he passed around the blackeyed peas
"Well, Billy Joe never had a lick of sense, pass the biscuits, please"
"There's five more acres in the lower forty I've got to plow"
And Mama said it was shame about Billy Joe, anyhow
Seems like nothin' ever comes to no good up on Choctaw Ridge
And now Billy Joe MacAllister's jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge
And Brother said he recollected when he and Tom and Billie Joe
Put a frog down my back at the Carroll County picture show
And wasn't I talkin' to him after church last Sunday night?
"I'll have another piece of apple pie, you know it don't seem right"
"I saw him at the sawmill yesterday on Choctaw Ridge"
"And now you tell me Billie Joe's jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge"
And Mama said to me "Child, what's happened to your appetite?"
"I've been cookin' all morning and you haven't touched a single bite"
"That nice young preacher, Brother Taylor, dropped by today"
"Said he'd be pleased to have dinner on Sunday, oh, by the way"
"He said he saw a girl that looked a lot like you up on Choctaw Ridge"
"And she and Billy Joe was throwing somethin' off the Tallahatchie Bridge"
A year has come 'n' gone since we heard the news 'bout Billy Joe
And Brother married Becky Thompson, they bought a store in Tupelo
There was a virus going 'round, Papa caught it and he died last Spring
And now Mama doesn't seem to wanna do much of anything
And me, I spend a lot of time pickin' flowers up on Choctaw Ridge
And drop them into the muddy water off the Tallahatchie Bridge
One more historical one:
The Victory
I am a youthful lady
My troubles they are great
My tongue is scarcely able
My grievance to relate
Since I have lost my true love
That was ever dear to me
He's gone to plough the ocean
On board the Victory
And many a pleasant evenings
My love and I did meet
He clasped me round my slender waist
And gave me kisses sweet
I gave to him my hand and heart
And he vowed he'd marry me
But I did not know that my love
Would join the Victory
Chorus:
Mourn, England, mourn and complain
For the brave Lord Nelson's men
That died upon the main
My parents could not endure my love
Because he was so poor
Therefore he never did presume
To come within the door
But had he been some noble lord
Born a man of high degree
They'd ne'er have sent the lad I love
On board the Victory
There was thirteen on the press-gang
They did my love surround
And four of that accursed gang
Went bleeding to the ground
My love was overpowered
Though he fought most manfully
They dragged him through the dark, wet streets
Towards the Victory
Chorus
Your ship she lay in harbour
Just ready to set sail
May Heaven be your guardian, love
Till you come home from sea
Just like an angel weeping
On the rock sighs every day
Awaiting for my own true love
Returning home from sea
It's not for gold that glitters
Nor silver that will shine
If I marry to the man I love
I'll be happy in my mind
Chorus
Here's success unto the Victory
And crew of noble fame
And glory to the captain
Bold Nelson was his name
At the Battle of Trafalgar
The Victory cleared the way
But my love was slain with Nelson
Upon that very day
Chorus
LONG BLACK VEIL by Johnny Cash
Ten years ago,on a cold dark night
Someone was killed ,neath the town hall light
There were few at the scene,but the all agreed
That the slayer who ran,looked a lot like me
The judge said son what is your alibi
If you were somewhere else.then you won't have to die
I spoke not a word,thou it met my life
For I'd been in the arms of my best friends wife
Chorus
She walks these hill.in a long black veil
She visits my grave.when the night winds wail
Nobody knows,nobody sees
Nobody knows but me
Oh the scaffold is high and eternity's near
She stood in the crowd and shed not a tear
But late at night,when the north wind blows
In a long black veil,she cries o're my bones
Except I haven't been able to find it.........
That's an eerie one, too.
Ten years ago, on a cold dark night
Someone was killed, 'neath the town hall light
There were few at the scene, but they all agreed
That the slayer who ran, looked a lot like me
The judge said son, what is your alibi
If you were somewhere else, then you won't have to die
I spoke not a word, thou it meant my life
For I'd been in the arms of my best friend's wife
Chorus
She walks these hills in a long black veil
She visits my grave when the night winds wail
Nobody knows, nobody sees
Nobody knows but me
Oh, the scaffold is high and eternity's near
She stood in the crowd and shed not a tear
But late at night, when the north wind blows
In a long black veil, she cries ov're my bones
How eerie, to post the same song at the same time....
I was tired of my lady
We'd been together too long
Like a worn-out recording
Of a favorite song
So while she lay there sleeping
I read the paper in bed
And in the personal columns
There was this letter I read
"If you like Pina Coladas
And getting caught in the rain
If you're not into yoga
If you have half a brain
If you'd like making love at midnight
In the dunes on the Cape
Then I'm the love that you've looked for
Write to me and escape."
I didn't think about my lady
I know that sounds kind of mean
But me and my old lady
Have fallen into the same old dull routine
So I wrote to the paper
Took out a personal ad
And though I'm nobody's poet
I thought it wasn't half bad
"Yes I like Pina Coladas
And getting caught in the rain
I'm not much into health food
I am into champagne
I've got to meet you by tomorrow noon
And cut through all this red-tape
At a bar called O'Malley's
Where we'll plan our escape."
So I waited with high hopes
And she walked in the place
I knew her smile in an instant
I knew the curve of her face
It was my own lovely lady
And she said, "Oh it's you."
Then we laughed for a moment
And I said, "I never knew."
That you like Pina Coladas
Getting caught in the rain
And the feel of the ocean
And the taste of champagne
If you'd like making love at midnight
In the dunes of the Cape
You're the lady I've looked for
Come with me and escape
repeat chorus twice and fade out
The Victory is quite good and sad, too.
This is the one i refered to above.
Pretty irreverant.
Ann Bolyn
R.P.Weston and Bert Lee, 1934
In the Tower of London, large as life,
The ghost of Ann Boleyn walks, they declare.
Poor Ann Boleyn was once King Henry's wife -
Until he made the Headsman bob her hair!
Ah yes! he did her wrong long years ago,
And she comes up at night to tell him so.
With her head tucked underneath her arm
She walks the Bloody Tower!
With her head tucked underneath her arm
At the Midnight hour -
She comes to haunt King Henry, she means giving him 'what for',
Gad Zooks, she's going to tell him off for having spilt her gore.
And just in case the Headsman wants to give her an encore
She has her head tucked underneath her arm!
With her head tucked underneath her arm
She walks the Bloody Tower!
With her head tucked underneath her arm
At the Midnight hour.
Along the draughty corridors for miles and miles she goes,
She often catches cold, poor thing, it's cold there when it blows,
And it's awfully awkward for the Queen to have to blow her nose
With her head tucked underneath her arm!
Sometimes gay King Henry gives a spread
For all his pals and gals - a ghostly crew.
The headsman carves the joint and cuts the bread,
Then in comes Ann Boleyn to 'queer' the 'do';
She holds her head up with a wild war whoop,
And Henry cries 'Don't drop it in the soup!'
With her head tucked underneath her arm
She walks the Bloody Tower!
With her head tucked underneath her arm
At the Midnight hour.
The sentries think that it's a football that she carries in,
And when they've had a few they shout 'Is Ars'nal going to win?'
They think it's Alec James, instead of poor old Ann Boleyn
With her head tucked underneath her arm!
With her head tucked underneath her arm
She walks the Bloody Tower!
With her head tucked underneath her arm
At the Midnight hour.
One night she caught King Henry, he was in the Canteen Bar.
Said he 'Are you Jane Seymour, Ann Boleyn or Cath'rine Parr?
For how the sweet san fairy ann do I know who you are
With your head tucked underneath your arm!'
Here's another "historical" one that hubby reminded me of, he had heard the Kinky Friedman version of it on the anniversary of iwo Jima:
The Ballad of Ira Hayes
Gather round me people and a story I will tell
‘Bout a brave young Indian lad, you should remember well,
From a tribe of Pima Indians, a proud and peaceful band
Who farmed the Phoenix Valley out in Arizona land.
Down their ditches for a thousand years the sparkling water rushed
Till the white man stole the water rights and the running water hushed.
Ira’s folks was hungry, their fields grew thick with weeds,
But when war came Ira volunteered and forgot the white man’s greed.
Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won’t answer anymore,
Not that whiskey drinking Indian or Marine who went to war.
Well, they battled up Iwo Jima Hill, two hundred and fifty men
But only twenty-seven lived to walk back down again.
And after the fight was over and Old Glory proudly raised,
Among the men who held her high was an Indian, Ira Hayes.
Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won’t answer anymore,
Not that whiskey drinking Indian or Marine who went to war.
Well, Ira Hayes returned a hero, celebrated throughout the land,
He was wined and speeched and honored, everybody shook his hand.
But he’s just a Pima Indian, no food, no friend, no chance,
And nobody cared what Ira did and when do the Indians dance.
Well, Ira took to drinking hard, jail often was his home,
They used to let him raise the flag there and lower it just like you’d throw a dog a bone.
And Ira died drunk early one morning all alone in the land he’d fought to save.
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch was the grave for Ira Hayes.
Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won’t answer anymore,
Not that whiskey drinking Indian or Marine who went to war.
Yeah, call him drunken Ira Hayes, but his land is till as dry
And his ghost, well, that’s lying thirsty in the ditch where Ira died.
Call him drunken Ira Hayes, he won’t answer anymore,
Not that whiskey drinking Indian or Marine who went to war.
I remember the year that Clayton Delaney died.
They said for the last two weeks that he suffered and cried.
It made a big impression on me, although I was a barefoot kid.
They said he got religion at the end and I’m glad that he did.
Clayton was the best guitar picker in our town.
I thought he was a hero, and I used to follow Clayton around.
I often wondered why Clayton, who seemed so good to me,
Never took his guitar and made it down in Tennesee.
Well, Daddy said he drank a lot, but I could never understand.
I knew he used to pick up in Ohio with a five-piece band.
Clayton used to tell me, "Son, you better put that old guitar away.
There ain’t no money in it. It’ll lead you to an early grave."
I guess if I’d admit it, Clayton taught me how to drink booze.
I can see him, half-stoned, a-pickin’ out the Lovesick Blues.
When Clayton died I made him a promise I was gonna carry on somehow.
I’d give a hundred dollars if he could only see me now.
I remember the year that Clayton Delaney died.
Nobody ever knew it, but I went out in the woods and I cried.
Well, I know there’s a lotta big preachers that know a lot more than I do.
But it could be that the good lord likes a little pickin’ too.
Yeah, I remember the year that Clayton Delaney died ...
Thanks - I couldn't find that one.
Irreverent is right.........eeewwwww
This is an old one. Someone wrote a neat novel based on it:
Tam Lin
O I forbid you, maidens a’,
That wear gowd on your hair,
To come or gae by Carterhaugh,
For young Tam Lin is there.
There’s nane that gaes by Carterhaugh
But they leave him a wad,
Either their rings, or green mantles,
Or else their maidenhead.
Janet has kilted her green kirtle
A little aboon her knee,
And she has braided her yellow hair
A little aboon her bree,
And she’s awa’ to Carterhaugh,
As fast as she can hie.
When she came to Carterhaugh
Tam Lin was at the well,
And there she fand his steed standing,
But away was himsel.
She had na pu’d a double rose,
A rose but only twa,
Till up then started young Tam Lin,
Says, “Lady, thou’s pu nae mae.
“Why pu’s thou the rose, Janet,
And why breaks thou the wand?
Or why comes thou to Carterhaugh
Withoutten my command?”
“Carterhaugh, it is my ain,
My daddie gave it me;
I’ll come and gang by Carterhaugh,
And ask nae leave at thee.”
* * * * *
Janet has kilted her green kirtle
A little aboon her knee,
And she has snooded her yellow hair
A little aboon her bree,
And she is to her father’s ha,
As fast as she can hie.
Four and twenty ladies fair
Were playing at the ba,
And out then cam the fair Janet,
Ance the flower amang them a’.
Four and twenty ladies fair
Were playing at the chess,
And out then cam the fair Janet,
As green as onie grass.
Out then spak an auld grey knight,
Lay oer the castle wa,
And says, “Alas, fair Janet, for thee
But we’ll be blamed a’.”
“Haud your tongue, ye auld-fac’d knight,
Some ill death may ye die!
Father my bairn on whom I will,
I’ll father nane on thee.”
Out then spak her father dear,
And he spak meek and mild;
“And ever alas, sweet Janet,” he says.
“I think thou gaes wi child.”
“If that I gae wi’ child, father,
Mysel maun bear the blame;
There’s neer a laird about your ha
Shall get the bairn’s name.
“If my love were an earthly knight,
As he’s an elfin grey,
I wad na gie my ain true-love
For nae lord that ye hae.
“The steed that my true-love rides on
Is lighter than the wind;
Wi siller he is shod before
Wi burning gowd behind.”
Janet has kilted her green kirtle
A little aboon her knee,
And she has snooded her yellow hair
A little aboon her bree,
And she’s awa’ to Carterhaugh,
As fast as she can hie.
When she cam to Carterhaugh,
Tam Lin was at the well,
And there she fand his steed standing,
But away was himsel.
She had na pu’d a double rose,
A rose but only twa,
Till up then started young Tam Lin,
Says, “Lady, thou pu’s nae mae.
“Why pu’s thou the rose, Janet,
Amang the groves sae green,
And a’ to kill the bonie babe
That we gat us between?”
“O tell me, tell me, Tam Lin,” she says,
“For’s sake that died on tree,
If eer ye was in holy chapel,
Or christendom did see?”
“Roxbrugh he was my grandfather,
Took me with him to bide,
And ance it fell upon a day
That wae did me betide.
“And ance it fell upon a day,
A cauld day and a snell,
When we were frae the hunting come,
That frae my horse I fell;
The Queen o Fairies she caught me,
In yon green hill to dwell.
“And pleasant is the fairy land,
But, an eerie tale to tell,
Ay at the end of seven years
We pay a tiend to hell;
I am sae fair and fu’ o flesh
I’m feared it be mysel.
“But the night is Halloween, lady,
The morn is Hallowday;
Then win me, win me, an ye will,
For weel I wat ye may.
“Just at the mirk and midnight hour
The fairy folk will ride,
And they that wad their true love win,
At Miles Cross they maun bide.”
“But how shall I thee ken, Tam Lin,
Or how my true-love know,
Amang sae mony unco knights
The like I never saw?”
“O first let pass the black, lady,
And syne let pass the brown,
But quickly run to the milk-white steed,
Pu ye his rider down.
“For I’ll ride on the milk-white steed,
And ay nearest the town;
Because I was an earthly knight
They gie me that renown.
“My right hand will be gloyd, lady,
My left hand will be bare,
Cockt up shall my bonnet be,
And kaimd down shall my hair;
And thae’s the takens I gie thee,
Nae doubt I will be there.
“They’ll turn me in your arms, lady,
Into an esk and adder;
But hold me fast, and fear me not,
I am your bairn’s father.
“They’ll turn me to a bear sae grim,
And then a lion bold;
But hold me fast, and fear me not,
As ye shall love your child.
“Again they’ll turn me in your arms
To a red het gaud of airn;
But hold me fast, and fear me not,
I’ll do to you nae harm.
“And last they’ll turn me in your arms
Into the burning gleed;
Then throw me into well water,
O throw me in wi speed.
“And then I’ll be your ain true-love,
I’ll turn a naked knight;
Then cover me wi your green mantle,
And cover me out o sight.”
Gloomy, gloomy was the night,
And eerie was the way,
As fair Jenny in her green mantle
To Miles Cross she did gae.
About the middle o’ the night
She heard the bridles ring;
This lady was as glad at that
As any earthly thing.
First she let the black pass by,
And syne she let the brown;
But quickly she ran to the milk-white steed,
And pu’d the rider down,
Sae weel she minded whae he did say,
And young Tam Lin did win;
Syne coverd him wi her green mantle,
As blythe’s a bird in spring.
Out then spak the Queen o Fairies,
Out of a bush o broom:
“Them that has gotten young Tam Lin
Has gotten a stately groom.”
Out then spak the Queen o Fairies,
And an angry woman was she;
“Shame betide her ill-far’d face,
And an ill death may she die,
For she’s taen awa the bonniest knight
In a’ my companie.
“But had I kend, Tam Lin,” she says,
“What now this night I see,
I wad hae taen out thy twa grey e’en,
And put in twa een o tree.”
It's got a weird tune, too.
Hard to remember.
(It's good for Halloween, again, though!)
I didn't get the entire thing, but did get the gist of, no can imagine that a novel could be based upon it.
I've got a thing for country ballads, and this is a long time fave from Alabama:
Roll On
chorus)
Roll on highway, roll on along
Roll on daddy till you get back home
Roll on family, roll on crew
Roll on momma like I asked you to do
And roll on eighteen-wheeler roll on (roll on)
It's Monday morning, he's kissin' momma goodbye
He's up and gone with the sun
Daddy drives an eighteen-wheeler
And he's off on a midwest run
As three sad faces gather round momma
They ask her when daddy's comin' home
Daddy drives an eighteen-wheeler
And they sure miss him when he's gone (yeah they do)
Ah, but he calls them everynight and he tells them that he loves them
And he taught them this song to sing
(chorus)
Roll on highway, Roll on along
Roll on daddy till ya get back home
Roll on family, Roll on crew
Roll on momma like I asked you to do
And roll on eighteen-wheeler roll on (roll on)
It's Wednesday evening, momma's waitin by the phone
It rings but it's not his voice
Seems the highway patrol has found a jacknifed rig
In a snow bank in Illinois
But the driver was missin' and the search had been abandoned
For the weather had everything strong
And they had checked all the houses and local motels
When they had somemore news they'd call
And she told them when they found him to tell him that she loved him
And she hung up the phone singin'
(chorus)
Roll on highway, roll on along
Roll on daddy till ya get back home
Roll on family, roll on crew
Roll on momma like I asked you to do
And roll on eighteen-wheeler roll on
Momma and the children will be waiting up all night long
Thinkin' nothing but the words just comin'
With the ringin' of the telephone
Oh, but the man upstairs was listening
When momma asked him to bring daddy home
And when the call came in it was daddy on the other end
Askin' her if she had been singin' the song, singin'
(chorus)
Roll on highway, roll on along
Roll on daddy till ya get back home
Roll on family, roll on crew
Roll on momma like I asked you to do
And roll on eighteen-wheeler
(chorus)
Roll on highway, roll on along
Roll on daddy till ya get back home
Roll on family, roll on crew
Roll on momma like I asked you to do
And roll on eighteen-wheeler roll on (roll on)
eighteen-wheeler
eighteen-wheeler
eighteen-wheeler
eighteen-wheeler
Roll on
Roll on
There's a set of songs about a runaway wife who went off with a gypsy...Usually he's called something like Black Jack Davey, and she takes off boots of spanish leather (funny how that item shows up in so many variations:
Here's one:
BLACK JACK DAVEY
O Black Jack Davy came riding by
A whistling so merrily
He made the woods all around him ring
And he charmed the heart of a lady (2x)
O come with me my pretty little one
O come with me my honey
I swear by the beard upon my chin
That you'll never want for money
Pull off, pull off your high heeled shoes
All made of Spanish leather
Put on, put on your low heeled boots
And we'll ride off together
She pulled off her high heeled shoes
all made of Spanish leather
She jumped behind him on his horse
And they rode off together
That night her husband he came home
A looking for his lady
Her maid she spoke before she thought
Said she's gone with Black Jack Davy
O saddle me up my coal black steed
My white one's not so speedy
I rode all day and I'll ride all night
And I'll bring home my lady
He rode all night till broad day light
He came to a rive raging
And there he spied his darling bride
In the arms of Black Jack Davy
Pull off, pull off your long black gloves
All made of Spanish leather
And jump behind me on my horse
And we'll ride home together
She pulled off her long black gloves
All made of Spanish leather
She gave to him her lily white hand
and said good-by for ever
Would you forsake your house and home;
Would you forsake our baby
Would you forsake your wedded love
And go with Black Jack Davy
Last night I slept in a warm feather bed
Beside my husband and baby
Tonight I'll sleep on the cold, cold ground
In the arms of Black Jack Davy
Yikes..........
It was the third of September.
That day I'll always remember, yes I will,
'Cause that was the day that my daddy died.
I never got a chance to see him,
Never heard nothing but bad things about him.
Mama, I'm depending on you to tell me the truth.
And Mama just hung her head and said,
"Son, Papa was a rolling stone.
Wherever he laid his hat was his home.
And when he died, all he left us was alone."
"Oh, Papa was a rolling stone, my son.
Wherever he laid his hat was his home.
And when he died, all he left us was alone."
Well, well ...
Hey Mama, is it true what they say,
that Papa never worked a day in his life?
And Mama, some bad talk going around town
Saying that Papa had three outside children and another wife,
And that ain't right!
Hey, talk about Papa doing some store front preaching!
Talked about saving souls and all the time leaching!
Dealing in debt and stealing in the name of the Lord!
Mama just hung her head and said,
"Papa was a rolling stone, my son.
Wherever he laid his hat was his home.
And when he died, all he left us was alone."
Papa was a rolling stone, dad-gum-it.
Wherever he laid his hat was his home.
And when he died, all he left us was alone.
Hey Mama, I heard Papa called himself a jack of all trades!
Tell me, is that what sent Papa to an early grave?
Folks say Papa would beg, borrow, steal to pay his bills."
Hey Mama, folks say that Papa was never much on thinking.
Spent most of his life chasing women and drinking.
Mama, I'm depending on you to tell me the truth.
And Mama looked up with a tear in her eye and said
"Son, Papa was a rolling stone ...
Well, well, well, well ...
Wherever he laid his hat was his home.
And when he died,
All he left us was alone, 'lone, 'lone, 'lone, alone."
Papa was a rolling stone.
Wherever he laid his hat was his home
And when he died, all he left us was alone!
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