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Johnny Cash
Johnny Cash


Информация
Настоящее имя J. R. Cash
Дата рождения 26 февраля 1932 г.
Место рождения Kingsland, Arkansas, U.S.
Дата смерти 12 сентября 2003 г.
Место смерти Nashville, Tennessee, U.S.
Жанры Country
Rock'n'Roll
Folk
Gospel
Blues
Americana
Годы 1955—2003
Лейблы Columbia Records
Mercury Records
Legacy Recordings
American Recordings
Sun Records
См. также The Highwaymen
The Jordanaires
The Tennessee Three
June Carter Cash
The Statler Brothers
The Carter Family
The Oak Ridge Boys
Area Code 615
Сайт Website



Альбом Johnny Cash


16 Biggest Hits, Vol. 2 (2001)
2001
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
The Lady Came From Baltimore
9.
To Beat The Devil
10.
Blistered
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
Over The Next Hill
. . .


A young cowboy named Billy Joe grew restless on the farm
A boy filled with wonderlust who really meant no harm
He changed his clothes and shined his boots
And combed his dark hair down
And his mother cried as he walked out

Chorus
Don't take your guns to town son
Leave your guns at home Bill
Don't take your guns to town

He laughed and kissed his mom
And said your Billy Joe's a man
I can shoot as quick and straight as anybody can
But I wouldn't shoot without a cause
I'd gun nobody down
But she cried again as he rode away

Chorus
Don't take your guns to town son
Leave your guns at home Bill
Don't take your guns to town

He sang a song as on he rode
His guns hung at his hips
He rode into a cattle town
A smile upon his lips
He stopped and walked into a bar
And laid his money down
But his mother's words echoed again

Chorus
Don't take your guns to town son
Leave your guns at home Bill
Don't take your guns to town

He drank his first strong liquor then to calm his shaking hand
And tried to tell himself he had become a man
A dusty cowpoke at his side began to laugh him down
And he heard again his mothers words

Chorus
Don't take you2 guns to town son
Leave your guns at home Bill
Don't take your guns to town

Filled with rage then
Billy Joe reached for his gun to draw
But the stranger drew his gun and fired
Before he even saw
As Billy Joe fell to the floor
The crowd all gathered 'round
And wondered at his final words

Chorus
Don't take your guns to town son
Leave your guns at home Bill
Don't take your guns to town

. . .


On A Monday I Was Ar-rested (Uh Huh)
On A Tuesday They Locked Me In The Jail (Oh Boy)
On A Wednesday My Trial Was At-tested
On A Thursday They Said Guilty And The Judge's Gavel Fell

I Got Stripes --- Stripes Around My Shoulders
I Got Chains --- Chains Around My Feet
I Got Stripes --- Stripes Around My Shoulders
And Them Chains --- Them Chains They're About To Drag Me Down

On A Monday My Momma Come To See Me
On A Tuesday They Caught Me With A File
On A Wednesday I'm Down In Solitary
On A Thursday I Start On Bread And Water For A While

I Got Stripes --- Stripes Around My Shoulders
I Got Chains --- Chains Around My Feet
I Got Stripes --- Stripes Around My Shoulders
And Them Chains --- Them Chains They're About To Drag Me Down

I Got Stripes --- Stripes Around My Shoulders
I Got Chains --- Chains Around My Feet
I Got Stripes --- Stripes Around My Shoulders
And Them Chains --- Them Chains They're About To Drag Me

. . .



In a little cabaret in a South Texas border town,
Sat a boy and his guitar, and the people came from all around.
And all the girls from there to Austin,
Were slippin' away from home and puttin' jewelry in hock.
To take the trip, to go and listen,
To the little dark-haired boy who played the Tennessee flat top box.

And he would play: (Instrumental.)

Well, he couldn't ride or wrangle, and he never cared to make a dime.
But give him his guitar, and he'd be happy all the time.
And all the girls from nine to ninety,
Were snapping fingers, tapping toes, and begging him: "Don't stop."
And hypnotized and fascinated,
By the little dark-haired boy who played the Tennessee flat top box.

And he would play: (Instrumental.)

Then one day he was gone, and no one ever saw him 'round,
He'd vanished like the breeze, they forgot him in the little town.
But all the girls still dreamed about him.
And hung around the cabaret until the doors were locked.
And then one day on the Hit Parade,
Was a little dark-haired boy who played the Tennessee flat top box.


. . .



My bills are all due and the babies need shoes but I'm busted
Cotton is down to a quater a pound and I'm busted
I've got a cow that went dry and a hen that won't lay
A big stack of bills that get bigger each day EE
The County will haul my belongings away I'm busted!

I went to my brother to ask for a loan I was busted
I hate to beg like a dog for a bone but I'm busted
My brother said there ain't a thing I can do
My wife and my kids are all down with the flu
And I was just thinking of calling on you I'm busted!

Lord I'm no thief but a man can go wrong when he's busted
The food that we canned last summer is gone and I'm busted
The fields are all bare and the cotton won't grow
Me and my family's gotta pack up and go

. . .



The old home town looks the same,
As I step down from the train,
And there to meet me is my mama and my papa.
Down the road I look, and there comes Mary,
Hair of gold and lips like cherries.
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.

The old house is still standing,
Though the paint is cracked and dry,
And there's the old oak tree that I used to play on.
Down the lane I walk with my sweet Mary,
Hair of gold and lips like cherries.
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.

Yes, they'll all come to see me,
Arms reaching, smiling sweetly.
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home.

Then I awake and look around me,
At the four gray walls that surround me,
And I realize that I was only dreaming.
For there's a guard, and there's a sad old padre,
Arm in arm, we'll walk at daybreak.
Again, I'll touch the green, green grass of home.

Yes, they'll all come to see me
In the shade of the old oak tree,

. . .


Look a-yonder comin'
Comin' down that railroad track
Hey, look a-yonder comin'
Comin' down that railroad track
It's the Orange Blossom Special
Bringin' my baby back

Well, I'm going down to Florida
And get some sand in my shoes
Or maybe Californy
And get some sand in my shoes
I'll ride that Orange Blossom Special
And lose these New York blues

"Say man, when you going back to Florida?"
"When am I goin' back to Florida? I don't know, don't reckon I ever will."
"Ain't you worried about getting your nourishment in New York?"
"Well, I don't care if I do-die-do-die-do-die-do-die."

Hey talk about a-ramblin'
She's the fastest train on the line
Talk about a-travellin'
She's the fastest train on the line
It's that Orange Blossom Special
Rollin' down the seaboard line

. . .


There once was a musical troupe
A pickin' singin' folk group
They sang the mountain ballads
And the folk songs of our land

They were long on musical ability
Folks thought they would go far
But political incompatibility led to their downfall

Well, the one on the right was on the left
And the one in the middle was on the right
And the one on the left was in the middle
And the guy in the rear was a Methodist

This musical aggregation toured the entire nation
Singing the traditional ballads
And the folk songs of our land
They performed with great virtuosity
And soon they were the rage
But political animosity prevailed upon the stage

Well, the one on the right was on the left
And the one in the middle was on the right
And the one on the left was in the middle
And the guy in the rear burned his driver's license

Well the curtain had ascended
A hush fell on the crowd
As thousands there were gathered to hear The folk songs of our land
But they took their politics seriously
And that night at the concert hall
As the audience watched deliriously
They had a free-for-all

Well, the one on the right was on the bottom
And the one in the middle was on the top
And the one on the left got a broken arm
And the guy in the rear, said, "Oh dear"

Now this should be a lesson if you plan to start a folk group
Don't go mixin' politics with the folk songs of our land
Just work on harmony and diction
Play your banjo well
And if you have political convictions keep them to yourself

Now, the one on the left works in a bank
And the one in the middle drives a truck
The one on the right's an all-night deejay
And the guy in the rear got drafted

. . .

The Lady Came From Baltimore

[Нет текста]

. . .

To Beat The Devil

[Нет текста]

. . .

Blistered

[Нет текста]

. . .


Six foot six he stood on the ground, he weighted 235 pounds
But I saw that giant of a man brought down to his knees by love
He was the kind of man that would gamble on luck
Look you in the eye and never back up
But I saw him crying like a little whipped pup because of love

You can't see it with your eyes, hold it in your hands
But like the wind
that covers our land
Strong enough to rule the heart of every man, this thing called love

It can lift you up, never let you down
Take your world and turn it all around
Ever since time nothing's ever been found stronger than love
Most men are like me. They worry and doubt
They trouble their minds day in and day out
Too busy with livin' to worry about a little word like love

But when I see a mother's tenderness
As she holds her young close to her breast
Then I thank God that the world's been blessed with the thing called love

. . .


I dedicate this song to the workin' man
For ever' man that puts in a hard
Eight or ten hours a day of work and toil and sweat
Always got somebody lookin' down his neck
Tryin' to get more out of 'im
Than he really ought to have to put in.

After twenty-nine long years of workin'
In this shop with Oney standin' over me ...
Today when that old whistle blows
I'll check in all my gear and I'll retire ...

The superintendent just dropped by and said
They'd planned my little get together ...
Then he said I'd never a made it
If old Oney hadn't held me to the fire.

I've seen him in my dreams at night
And woke up in the mornin' feelin' tired ...
And old Oney don't remember, when I came here
How he tried to get me fired ...
With his folded hands behind him
Every mornin' Oney waited at the gate ...
Where he'd rant and rave like I committed murder
Clockin' in five minutes late.

But today they'll gather 'round me
Like I've seen 'em do when any man retires
Then old Oney's gonna tell me
From now on I'm free to do what I desire ...

He'll present me with that little old gold watch
They give a man at times like this ...
But there's one thing he's not countin' on
Today's the day I give old Oney his.

I've been workin', buildin' muscles
Oney's just been standin' 'round a gettin' soft
And today about four-thirty
I'll make up for every good night's sleep I've lost ...
When I'm gone I'll be remembered
As the workin' man who put his point across
With a right hand full of knuckles
Cause today I show old Oney who's the boss.

Hmmmm! What time is it? Four thirty!
Hey, Oney!
Oney! Ha ha ha ha!

. . .


(Dick Feller)

Hmm Lord she's restless like cotton candy clouds that sail the day slow and free
And she possesses a mind that can't resign to stay for long with me
Though I've tried and tried to keep her tied
And satisfied until she really needs me yes I do
But when that certain look comes on her face I can't replace it and she leaves
me

She's butterfly in mid July
Who just can't wait to try her brand new wings on brand new things
And she needs no rhyme or reason when she goes
Her mind is on what lies beyond that wall
And blue horizon I suppose and heaven knows
She'll go sailin' off on any old wind that blows
Yes she will yes she will she'll go sailin' off on any old wind that blows

Hmm I know she needs me about as much as I need someone else which I don't
And if need be I swear someday I'll up and leave myself which I won't
Even if she loved another man I'd understand it more than I do hmm
But I know the only reason that she ever has for leavin' is she wants to

She's butterfly in mid July...

. . .


(Hal Bynum - Dave Kirby)
(with Waylon Jennings)

Bet it ain't a rainin' back home bet your sister's still on the phone
Bet mama's in the kitchen cookin' fried chicken wishin' that I hadn't done wrong
Mama don't you worry about me now know everything's gonna be alright mama
They're teachin' us a lot of new things in here mama
Things like there ain't no good in an evil hearted woman
And I ain't cut out to be no Jesse James
And you don't go writin' hot checks down in Mississippi
And there ain't no good chain gang
[ guitar ]
Papa's readin' yesterday's mail wishin' that the hay was all baled
I bet he's a wishin' we could go fishin' and here I am a layin' in jail
Well papa don't you worry about it none now everything's gonna be alright papa
They're teachin' us a lesson today we're learning pretty well too
We've already learned a whole lot stuff already
Things like there ain't no good...
There ain't no good...
[ guitar ]
There ain't no good...

. . .


(w/ Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings and Kris Kristofferson)

I was a highwayman. Along the coach roads I did ride
With sword and pistol by my side
Many a young maid lost her baubles to my trade
Many a soldier shed his lifeblood on my blade
The bastards hung me in the spring of twenty-five
But I am still alive.

I was a sailor. I was born upon the tide
And with the sea I did abide.
I sailed a schooner round the Horn to Mexico
I went aloft and furled the mainsail in a blow
And when the yards broke off they said that I got killed
But I am living still.

I was a dam builder across the river deep and wide
Where steel and water did collide
A place called Boulder on the wild Colorado
I slipped and fell into the wet concrete below
They buried me in that great tomb that knows no sound
But I am still around..I'll always be around..and around and around and
around and around

I fly a starship across the Universe divide
And when I reach the other side
I'll find a place to rest my spirit if I can
Perhaps I may become a highwayman again
Or I may simply be a single drop of rain
But I will remain

. . .

Over The Next Hill

[Нет текста]

. . .


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