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The Bear's not the only one who likes Tom T. Hall ...

The Year That Clayton Delaney Died

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 ...

He was an old-time cowboy, don't you understand His eyes were sharp as razor blades his face was leather tan His toes were pointed inward from a-hangin' on a horse
He was an old philosopher, of course He was so thin I swear you could have used him for a whip He had to drink a beer to keep his britches on his hips I knew I had to ask him about the mysteries of life He spit between his boots and he replied

"It's faster horses, younger women, Older whiskey, and more money"

He smiled and all his teeth were covered with tobacco stains He said, "It don't do men no good to pray for peace and rain. Peace and rain is just a way to say prosperity, And buffalo chips is all it means to me."
I told him I was a poet, I was lookin' for the truth I do not care for horses, whiskey, women or the loot I said I was a writer, my soul was all on fire He looked at me an' he said, "You are a liar."

"It's faster horses, younger women, Older whiskey, and more money"
Well, I was disillusioned, if I say the least I grabbed him by the collar and I jerked him to his feet There was something cold and shiny layin' by my head So I started to believe the things he said

Well, my poet days are over and I'm back to being me As I enjoy the peace and comfort of reality If my boy ever asks me what it is that I have learned I think that I will readily affirm
"It's faster horses, younger women, Older whiskey, and more money" (repeat 2X)