There's four of them and I can't fight But I had my old Randall knife I cut that boy and I never did look back --Steve Earle
This was one of my Dad's favorite songs. Probably the reason I posted it a hundred times on the other forum.
Now tom said "Mom,wherever there s a cop beating a guy,Wherever a hungry newborn baby cries Where there s a fight against the blood and hatred in the air Look for me mom I ll be there Wherever there s somebody fightin for a place to stand Or a decent job or a helpin hand Wherever somebody s strugglin to be free Look in their eyes Mom you ll see me. The BOSS
Some of my favorite lyrics also come from David Allan Coe. David Allan Coe - "Time off for bad behavior" Well, I'm up and gone at the break dawn I've been workin' like a regular dog To keep my woman and the lights and the water And the phone turned on I've been sayin', "Yes sir" all day at work I've been sayin', "Yes ma'am" at home I've been storin' up the **** you's Keepin' 'em under my tongue It sounds better coming from him, rather than reading them.
They rode against the railroads And they rode against the banks And they rode against the government Never did they ask for word of thanks. Frank and Jesse James by Warren Zevon
Charlie don't Surf The Clash [Chorus:] Charlie don't surf and we think he should Charlie don't surf and you know that it ain't no good Charlie don't surf for his hamburger Momma Charlie's gonna be a napalm star Everybody wants to rule the world Must be something we get from birth One truth is we never learn Satellites will make space burn We've been told to keep the strangers out We don't like them starting to hang around We don't like them all over town Across the world we are going to blow them down [Chorus:] The reign of the super powers must be over So many armies can't free the earth Soon the rock will roll over Africa is choking on their Coca Cola It's a one a way street in a one horse town One way people starting to brag around You can laugh, put them down These one way people gonna blow us down [Chorus:] Charlie don't surf he'll never learn Charlie don't surf though he's got a gun Charlie don't surf think that he should Charlie don't surf we really think he should Charlie don't surf Charlie don't surf and we think he should Charlie don't surf and you know that it ain't no good Charlie don't surf for his hamburger Momma Charlie don't surf
Well, I was sittin' in this beer joint down in Houston, Texas. Was drinkin' Colorado Kool-Aid and talkin' to some Mexicans, An' we was....what's that you say? What's Colorado Kool-Aid? Well, it's a can of Coors brewed from a mountain stream. It'll set you head on fire an' make your kidneys scream, Oh, it sure is fine. Yeah, we was havin' ourselves one of them real good times. But you know every beer joint that you've ever been in, Some big, mean drunk who just ain't got no friend, Sure enough, he wants to fight, Yeah, he's gonna whip everything in sight. Well, he took him a big swallow of beer, And he spit in my Mexican friends ear. And, sure enough, that made my buddie real mad. That's somethin' like he ain't never had. Well, sir, he pulled out a big, long switch blade knife; Quick as a whistle he began to slice. An, that big mean drunk stood back, his face full of tears, Lookin' down at the floor, an' one of his ears. Ha, he cut that thing off, even with the sideburns. You might say the little Mexican fella, he just didn't give a durn. But he was a gentleman about it, an' bent over and with a half way grin, Picked it up and handed it back to him. He said: "Now big man, you get the urge to spit a little beer, "Just open up your hand there, and spit it in your own ear. "Won't be no trouble that way." That's what I heard him say. And I said: "Barmaid, set us up a round of that Colorado Kool-Aid. "An while you're up their, bring this big fella, here, a box of Band aids." Now let me tell you: if you're ever ridin' down in south of Texas, Decide to stop an' drink some Colorado Kool-Aid, An' maybe talk to some Mexicans, An' you get the urge to get a little tough, Better make damn sure you got your knife proof ear-muff. Hey, ain't that right big man? I said ain't that right big man? Ah, hell he can't hear, not on this side anyway, he ain't got no ear. Hey barmaid, bring us all a big, tall glass of that Colorado Kool-Aid. How about it? How you doin', big man? Still got your ear there in your hand?
Preacher man says its the end of time and the mississippi river shes a going dry. The interest is up and the stock markets down and youll only get mugged if you go downtown. I live back in the woods you see a woman and the kids and the dogs and me. I got a shotgun rifle and a four wheeled drive and a country boy can survive.
Well I used to wake the morning before the rooster crowed Searching for soda bottles to get myself some dough Brought 'em down to the corner, down to the country store Cash 'em in and give my money to a man named Curtis Loew Old Curt was a black man with white curly hair When he had a fifth of wine he did not have a care He used to own an old dobro, used to play it across his knee I'd give old Curt my money, he'd play all day for me Play me a song Curtis Loew, Curtis Loew I got your drinking money, tune up your dobro People said he was useless, them people are the fools 'Cause Curtis Loew was the finest picker to ever play the blues He looked to be sixty, and maybe I was ten Mama used to whip me but I'd go see him again I'd clap my hands, stomp my feets, try to stay in time He'd play me a song or two Then take another drink of wine. Yes sir On the day old Curtis died, nobody came to pray Ol' preacher said some words, and they chunked him in the clay But he lived a lifetime playin' the black man's blues And on the day he lost his life, that's all he had to lose Play me a song Curtis Loew, Hey Curtis Loew I wish that you was here so everyone would know People said he was useless, them people all are fools 'Cause Curtis you're the finest picker to ever play the blues
Mossy oak swamp bottom, dew drop falling Old Tom answering a hoot owls calling Nothing like the sound when the day breaks Me and Daddy in the woods on a Saturday you see his Granddaddy hunted these hills and I hope someday my kids will He said, Do me a favor before i'm gone, love this land and pass it on Pass it on Oh, he showed me how to cast a line Where the white tail live and how to read their signs He'd lean my gun up against a tree, so he could hold a barbwire fence for me Yeah I learned a lot from watching his ways, like how to hunt smart and how to be safe He said, one of these days son, you'll be grown Remember what i told you and pass it on Pass it on in the name of conservation Pass it on to another generation Pass it on But on the day that I turned 21, my Dad walked in with an old shot gun He said this belonged to your grandpa It's yours now son, so handle it with love and pass it on Pass it on in the name of conservation Pass it on to another generation Pass it on Pass it on Pass it on Nothing like the sound when day breaks Me and my boy in the woods on a Saturday Pass it on
I Im a huge fan of David Allan Coe, and I love this song, but I gotta say I prefer the version by Confederate Railroad. Not very often I prefer a cover over the original.
So the story goes @Expat wrote this song for Mark Knopfler from a personal experience... Postcards from Paraguay One thing was leading to the next I bit off more than I could chew I had the power to sign the checks It wasn't difficult to do I couldn't stay and face the music So many reasons why I won't be sending postcards From Paraguay I robbed a bank full of dinero A great big mountain of dough So it was goodbye companero And cheerio I couldn't stay and face the music So many reasons why I won't be sending postcards From Paraguay
People have often asked me why I call ESEE the "Whole Lotta Rosie" of the knife industry. Feel free to substitute words like Busse, choil, finish and rust to get the full effect: Whole Lotta Rosie" Wanna tell you story About woman I know When it comes to lovin' She steals the show She ain't exactly pretty Ain't exactly small Fourt'two thirt'ninefiftysix You could say she's got it all Never had a woman Never had a woman like you Doin' all the things Doin' all the things you do Ain't no fairy story Ain't no skin and bones But you give it all you got Weighin' in at nineteen stone You're a whole lotta woman A whole lotta woman Whole lotta Rosie Whole lotta Rosie Whole lotta Rosie And you're a whole lotta woman
They're pickin' up the prisoners And puttin 'em in a pen And all she wants to do is dance, dance Rebels been rebels Since I don't know when And all she wants to do is dance Molotov cocktail, the local drink And all she wants to do is dance, dance They mix 'em up right In the kitchen sink And all she wants to do is dance Crazy people walkin' round with blood in their eyes And all she wants to do is dance, dance, dance Wild-eyed pistols wavers who ain't afraid to die And all she wants to do is And all she wants to do is dance And make romance She can't feel the heat Comin' off the street She wants to party She wants to get down All she wants to do is All she wants to do is dance Well the government bugged the men's room In the local disco lounge And all she wants to do is dance, dance To keep the boys from sellin' All the weapons they could scrounge And all she wants to do is dance Yeah, but that don't keep the boys from makin' a buck or two And all she wants to do is dance, dance The still can sell the army All the drugs that they can do And all she wants to do is All she wants to do is dance And make romance Well we barely make the airport For the last plane out As we taxied down the runway I could hear the people shout They said, "don't come back here Yankee" But if I ever do I'll bring more money 'Cause all she wants to do is dance And make romance Never mind the heat Comin' off the street She wants to party She wants to get down All she wants to do is All she wants to do is dance And make romance All she wants to do is dance
"The Legend Of Wooley Swamp" Well, if you ever go back into Wooley Swamp, well, you better not go at night There's things out there in the middle of them woods That'd make a strong man die from fright Things that crawl and things that fly Things that creep around on the ground And they say the ghost of Lucius Clay gets up and he walks around [Chorus:] But I couldn't believe it, (I) just had to find out for myself And I couldn't conceive it, (I) never would listen to nobody else And I couldn't believe it, (I) just had to find out for myself There's some things in this world you just can't explain The old man lived in the Wooley Swamp way back in Booger Woods And he never did do a lot of harm in the world He just never did do no good People didn't think too much of him They all thought he acted funny The old man didn't care about people anyway All he cared about was his money He'd stuff it all down into Mason jars and bury it all around But on certain nights if the moon was right He'd dig it up out of the ground Then he'd pour it all out on the floor of his shack And he'd run his fingers through it Yeah, Lucius Clay was a greedy old man And that's all there ever was to it But I couldn't believe it, (I) just had to find out for myself And I couldn't conceive it, (I) never would listen to nobody else And I couldn't believe it, (I) just had to find out for myself There's some things in this world you just can't explain The Cable boys were white trash, they lived over on Carver's Creek They were mean as a snake and sneaky as a cat And belligerent when they'd speak One night the oldest brother said ya'll meet me in the Wooley Swamp later We'll take old Lucius' money and we'll feed him to the alligators They found the old man out in the back with a shovel in his hand And thirteen rusty Mason jars he'd just dug up out of the sand Then they all went crazy and they beat the old man And they picked him up off the ground Then they threw him in the swamp and they stood there and laughed As the black water sucked him down And then they turned around and went back to the shack And they picked up the money and ran Hadn't gone nowhere when they realized That they were running in quicksand And they struggled and they screamed but they couldn't get away And just before they went under They could hear that old man laughing In a voice as loud as thunder Now that's been fifty years ago an' if you go by there yet There's a spot in the yard in the back of that shack Where the ground is always wet And on certain nights if the moon is right Down by that dark footpath You can hear three young men screaming And you can hear one old man laugh If you ever go back into Wooley Swamp, well, you better not go at night There's things out there in the middle of them woods That'd make a strong man die from fright Things that crawl and things that fly Things that creep around on the ground And they say the ghost of Lucius Clay gets up and he walks around But I couldn't believe it, (I) just had to find out for myself And I couldn't conceive it, (I) never would listen to nobody else And I couldn't believe it, (I) just had to find out for myself There's some things in this world you just can't explain
Turnpike Troubadour The Bird Hunters The covey took wing Shotguns a singing A pointing dog down in the old logging road Danny got three And looked back a grinning I fumbled around and I tried to reload The country was cold With the sun westward sinking It's good to be back in this place With my hands around A Belgian made Browning My mind on the lines of her face Well now Danny's my buddy We grew up like family Hunted this timber before we could drive The old English pointer He once belonged to me But I gave him up when I moved in '05 Off to the girl Off to the city Off on a wing and a chance Hell I thought it'd play out Just like some story We fell in love at a rodeo dance She said go on back to Cherokee County Won't you crawl back with nothing but a razor and a comb Babe, if you need me, I'll be where you found me Go on to hell, honey, I'm headed home Dan says, "Look at old Jim A dozen Decembers Behind him no worse for the wear And your time spent in Tulsa Did not help your shooting And look at the gray in your hair How good does it feel? You belong in these hills It's best that you let it all end If you'd have married that girl You'd have married her family You dodged a bullet my friend" She said go on back to Cherokee County Won't you crawl back with nothing but a razor and a comb Babe, if you need me, I'll be where you found me Go on to hell, honey, I'm headed home I was beginning To deal with it ending The old dog had pointed while part of me died And a flutter of feathers Then a shotgun to shoulder I thought of the Fourth of July She'll be home on the Fourth of July I bet we'll dance on the Fourth of July Dan says, "Hell of a shot Looks like you've still got it That's what we came here to do It's light enough still At the foot of the hill We could kick up a single or two" She said go on back to Cherokee County Won't you crawl back with nothing but a razor and a comb Babe, if you need me, I'll be where you found me Go on to hell, honey, I'm headed home Go on to hell, honey, I'm headed home
Stonehill Baby hates clowns Hey, hey, hey. Oh, my girl loves surprises, so I bought a pair of tickets and we went to see the greatest show on earth, where everybody comes to have a really good time underneath the big top, Oh, she seemed so delighted with the lions and the tigers, and the men on the flying trapeze, Oh, but when the clowns come around, she clinches her fists, she looks as if she's catching a disease. Baby hates clowns and the tricks they do, Baby hates clowns in their great big shoes, Baby hates clowns with their polka dot clothes, Baby hates clowns with their big red nose, Now I get a little nervous every time that the circus comes to town, I don't know why baby hates clowns. Hey, hey, hey. Well, I gingerly suggested she was over-caffeinated, or perhaps she had a simple case of nerves, She said, as she glared at me with eyes like knives, "You gotta a lot to learn, boy," So, I quick dropped the subject like a flaming hot potato, but it didn't bring her any relief, Oh, and it's so hard to pretend everything is just swell when she's muttering and grinding her teeth. Baby hates clowns with their stubby cigars, Baby hates clowns in their little toy cars, Baby hates clowns when they tumble and they flip, Baby hates clowns with their painted on lips, Now it's no exaggeration and there's not an explanation I have found, I don't know why baby hates clowns. She gets so traumatized, and I feel paralyzed, In the midst of her psycho drama, I don't know what to do, It's such a mystery: all this hostility, I tell her she should lighten up, but all she does is tighten up and come unglued. It's so unsettling. My girl loves surprises but I never realized she was vexed with a complicated mind, And I'm not sure whether it's a colorful quirk or some flavor of dementia, How I wish I could say there was a moral to the story, something cute about venting her angst, Oh, but let the truth be known: I'm in the twilight zone, Some guy dressed up like bozo gets the thanks. Baby hates clowns; it's truly bizarre, Baby hates clowns; it's the way they are, Baby hates clowns; man, it's making me nuts, Baby hates clowns, she hates their guts, Now I get a little nervous every time that the circus... I get a little nervous every time that the circus... Get a little nervous every time the circus comes to town, Oh, I don't know why baby hates clowns, hey. Hey, hey, hey, Hey, hey, hey, yeah. She can't stand them.
