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To: tiamat

I remember that one! I was 15, and it was popular during Mardi Gras that year...along with Our House (I think) by CSN&Y and Sad Lisa by Cat Stevens...

Speaking of Cats, here's a different ballad:

On a morning from a Bogart movie
In a country where they turn back time
You go strolling through the crowd like Peter Lorre
Contemplating a crime
She comes out of the sun in a silk dress running
Like a watercolour in the rain
Don't bother asking for explanations
She'll just tell you that she came
In the year of the cat

She doesn't give you time for questions
As she locks up your arm in hers
And you follow till your sense of which direction
Completely disappears
By the blue tiled walls near the market stalls
There's a hidden door she leads you to
These days, she says, I feel my life
Just like a river running through
The year of the cat

Well morning comes and you're still with her
And the bus and the tourists are gone
And you've thrown away the choice and lost your ticket
So you have to stay on
But the drum-beat strains of the night remain
In the rhythm of the new-born day
You know sometime you're bound to leave her
But for now you're going to stay
In the year of the cat


91 posted on 02/26/2005 4:13:31 PM PST by Knitting A Conundrum (Act Justly, Love Mercy, and Walk Humbly With God Micah 6:8)
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To: Knitting A Conundrum; All

LOL! We must be about the same age.

Amd i bet we have a bunch of the same music, too

Took me a moment to recognise "Year of the Cat".

Here's one I REALLY like. I admire anyone who can do the fiddle right!



The Devil Went Down To Georgia
Charlie Daniels Band
(Miscellaneous Movie Songs Compilation)

The devil went down to Georgia
He was looking for a soul to steal
He was in a bind cause he was way behind
And he was willing to make a deal
When he came across this young man
Sawing on a fiddle and playing it hot
And the devil jumped up on a hickory stump
And said, "Boy" let me tell you what
I guess you didn't know it
But I'm a fiddle player too
And if you'd care to take a dare
I'll make a bet with you
Now you played pretty good fiddle,boy
But give the devil his due
I bet a fiddle of gold against your soul
Cause I think I'm better than you
The boy said "My name's Johnny
And it might be a sin
But I'll take you bet, your gonna regret
Cause I'm the best that's ever been"

Johnny rosin up your bow
And play your fiddle hard
Cause hell's broke loose in Georgia
And the devil deals the cards
And if you win
You get this shiny fiddle made of gold
But if you lose, the devil gets your soul

The devil opened up his case
And he said "I'll start this show"
And fire flew from his finger tips
As he rosined up his bow
And he pulled the bow across the strings
And it made a evil hiss
Then a band of demons joined in
And it sounded something like this

When the devil finished Johnny said
Well you're, pretty good old son
But sit down in that chair right there
And let me show you how it's done

Fire on the mountain run boys run
Devils in the house at the rising sun
chicken in the bread pan picking out dough
Granny does your dog bite no-child-no

The devil bowed his head
Because he knew that he'd been beat
And he laid that golden fiddle
On the ground at Johnny's feet
Johnny said "Devil just come on back
If you ever want to try again
I done told you once, you son of a bitch
I'm the best that's ever been" he played

Fire on the mountain run boys run
Devils in the house at the rising sun
chicken in the bread pan picking out dough
Granny will your dog bite no-Child-no


96 posted on 02/26/2005 4:21:29 PM PST by tiamat (Some days, it's not even worth chewing through the restraints.)
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To: Knitting A Conundrum
I like Al Stewart's "On the Border"

The fishing boats go out across the evening water
Smuggling guns and arms across the Spanish border
The wind whips up the waves so loud
The ghost moon sails among the clouds
Turns the rifles into silver on the border

On my wall the colours of the maps are running
From Africa the winds they talk of changes coming
The torches flare up in the night
The hand that sets the farms alight
Has spread the word to those who're waiting on the border

In the village where I grew up Nothing seems the same
Still you never see the change from day to day
And no-one notices the customs slip away

Late last night the rain was knocking at my window
I moved across the darkened room and in the lampglow
I thought I saw down in the street
The spirit of the century
Telling us that we're all standing on the border

In the islands where I grew up Nothing seems the same
It's just the patterns that remain
An empty shell
But there's a strangeness in the air you feel too well

The fishing boats go out across the evening water
Smuggling guns and arms across the Spanish border
The wind whips up the waves so loud
The ghost moon sails among the clouds
Turns the rifles into silver on the border
On the border
On the border
On the border

as well as the haunting beautiful, "Roads to Moscow"

They crossed over the border the hour before dawn
Moving in lines through the day
Most of our planes were destroyed on the ground where they lay
Waiting for orders we held in the wood
- word from the front never came
By evening the sound of the gunfire was miles away


Ah, softly we move through the shadows, slip away through the trees
Crossing their lines in the mists in the fields on our hands and our knees
And all that I ever was able to see
The fire in the air glowing red silhouetting the smoke on the breeze

All summer they drove us back through the Ukraine
Smolyensk and Viyasma soon fell
By autumn we stood with our backs to the town of Orel
Closer and closer to Moscow they come
- riding the wind like a bell
General Guderian stands at the crest of the hill

Winter brought with her the rains, oceans of mud filled the roads
Gluing the tracks of their tanks to the ground while the sky filled with snow
And all that I ever was able to see
The fire in the air glowing red silhouetting the snow on the breeze

In the footsteps of Napoleon the shadow figures stagger through the winter
Falling back before the gates of Moscow, Standing in the wings like an avenger
And far away behind their lines the partisans are stirring in the forest
Coming unexpectedly upon their outposts, growing like a promise
You'll never know, you'll never know
Which way to turn, which way to look, you'll never see us
As we're stealing through the blackness of the night
You'll never know, you'll never hear us
And the evening sings in a voice of amber, the dawn is surely coming
The morning road leads to Stalingrad, and the sky is softly humming

Two broken Tigers on fire in the night
flicker their souls to the wind
We wait in the lines for the final approach to begin
It's been almost four years that I've carried a gun
At home it'll almost be spring
The flames of the Tigers are lighting the road to Berlin
Ah, quickly we move through the ruins that bow to the ground
The old men and children they send out to face us, they can't slow us down
And all that I ever was able to see
The eyes of the city are opening now it's the end of the dream

I'm coming home, I'm coming home
Now you can taste it in the wind, the war is over
And I listen to the clicking of the train wheels as we roll across the border
And now they ask me of the time
That I was caught behind their lines and taken prisoner
"They only held me for a day, a lucky break", I say; They turn and listen closer
I'll never know, I'll never know
Why I was taken from the line and all the others
To board a special train and journey deep into the heart of holy Russia

And it's cold and damp in the transit camp, and the air is still and sullen
And the pale sun of October whispers the snow will soon be coming
And I wonder when I'll be home again and the morning answers "Never"
And the evening sighs and the steely Russian skies go on forever.

194 posted on 02/26/2005 7:20:21 PM PST by SuziQ
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To: Knitting A Conundrum

1976.....the year of blotter acid.


207 posted on 02/26/2005 11:15:02 PM PST by international american (Tagline now fireproof....purchased from "Conspiracy Guy Custom Taglines"LLC)
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