. . .
|
|
Rattle Big Black Bones
in the Danger zone
there's a rumblin' groan
down below
there's a big dark town
it's a place I've found
there's a world going on
UNDERGROUND
they're alive, they're awake
while the rest of the world is asleep
below the mine shaft roads
it will all unfold
there's a world going on
UNDERGROUND
all the roots hang down
swing from town to town
they are marching around
down under your boots
all the trucks unload
beyond the gopher holes
there's a world going on
UNDERGROUND
. . .
|
|
Well with buck shot eyes and a purple heart
I rolled down the national stroll
and with a big fat paycheck
strapped to my hip sack
and a shore leave wristwatch underneath
my sleeve
in a Hong Kong drizzle on Cuban heels
I rowed down the gutter to the Blood Bank
and I'd left all my papers on the Ticonderoga
and was in a bad need of a shave
and so I slopped at the corner on cold chow mein
and shot billards with a midget
until the rain stopped
and I bought a long sleeved shirt
with horses on the front
and some gum and a lighter and a knife
and a new deck of cards (with girls on the back)
and I sat down and wrote a letter to my wife
and I said Baby, I'm so far away from home
and I miss my Baby so
I can't make it by myself
I love you so
Well I was pacing myself
trying to make it all last
squeezing all the life
out of a lousy two day pass
and I had a cold one at the Dragon
with some Filipino floor show
and talked baseball with a lieutenant
over a Singapore sling
and I wondered how the same moon outside
over this Chinatown fair
could look down on Illinois
and find you there
and you know I love you Baby
and I'm so far away from home
and I miss my Baby so
I can't make it by myself
I love you so
Shore Leave...
Shore Leave...
. . .
|
|
. . .
|
|
She's my only true love
she's all that I think of
look here in my wallet
that's her
She grew up on a farm there
there's a place on my arm
where I've written her name
next to mine
you see I just can't
live without her
and I'm her only boy
and she grew up outside McHenry
in Johnsburg, Illinois
. . .
|
16 Shells From a Thirty-Ought Six |
. . .
|
|
Well it's hotter 'n blazes and all the long faces
there'll be no oasis for a dry local grazier
there'll be no refreshment for a thirsty jackaroo
from Melbourne to Adelaide on the overlander
with newfangled buffet cars and faster locomotives
the train stopped in Serviceton less and less often
There's nothing sadder than a town with no cheer
Voc Rail decided the canteen was no longer necessary there
no spirits, no bilgewater and 80 dry locals
and the high noon sun beats a hundred and four
there's a hummingbird trapped in a closed down shoe store
This tiny Victorian rhubarb
kept the watering hole open for sixty five years
now it's boilin' in a miserable March 21 st
wrapped the hills in a blanket of Patterson's curse
the train smokes down the xylophone
there'll be no stopping here
all ya can be is thirsty in a town with no cheer
no Bourbon, no Branchwater
though the townspeople here
fought her Vic Rail decree tooth and nail
now it's boilin' in a miserable March 21 st
wrapped the hills in a blanket of Patterson's curse
the train smokes down the xylophone
there'll be no stopping here
all ya can be is thirsty in a town with no cheer
. . .
|
|
. . .
|
Just Another Sucker on the Vine |
. . .
|
|
. . .
|
|
. . .
|
|
He went down down down
and the devil called him by name
he went down down down
hangin' onto the back of a train
he went down down down
this boy went solid down
always chewed tobacco
and the bathtub gin
always chewed tobacco
and the bathtub gin
he went down down down
this boy went solid down
he went down
Well he went down down down
and the jumped on his head
he went down down down
stayin' in a broken down shed
he went down down down
sleepin' in the devil's bed
he went down down down
never listened to the words I said
he went down down down down
he went down
Well he went down down down
and the devil said where you been
he went down down down
he screamin' down around the bend
down down down
this boy went solid down
He was always cheatin'
and he always told lies
he was always cheatin'
and he always told lies
he went down down down
down down down
this boy went solid down
he went down
. . .
|
|
Davenports and kettle drums
and swallow tail coats
table cloths and patent leather shoes
bathing suits and bowling balls
and clarinets and rings
and all this radio really
needs is a fuse
a tinker, a tailor
a soldier's things
his rifle, his boots full of rocks
and this one is for bravery
and this one is for me
and everything's a dollar
in this box
Cuff links and hub caps
trophies and paperbacks
it's good transportation
but the brakes aren't so hot
neck tie and boxing gloves
this jackknife is rusted
you can pound that dent out
on the hood
a tinker, a tailor
a soldier's things
his rifle, his boots full of rocks
oh and this one is for bravery
and this one is for me
and everything's a dollar
in this box
. . .
|
|
I got a belly full of you
and that Leavenworth stuff
now I'm gonna get out
And I'm gonna get tough
you been lying to me
How could you crawl so low
with some gin-soaked boy
that you don't know
I come home last night
full a filth of Old Crow
you said you goin' to your ma's
but where the hell did you go
you went and slipped out nights
you didn't think that I'd know
with some
gin-soaked boy that you don't know
Well I would bet you as far
as Oklahoma by now
the dogs are barking out back
and you're knittin' your brow
well I'm on your tail I sussed your M.O.
from some gin-soaked boy
boy that you don't know
. . .
|
|
Well I pulled on trouble's braids
and I hid in the briars
out by the quick mud
stayin' away from the main roads
passin' out wolf tickets
downwind from the blood hounds
and I pulled on trouble's braids
and I lay by a cypress
as quiet as a stone
'til the bleeding stopped
I blew the weather vane
off some old road house
I build a fire in the
skeleton back seat of an old Tucker
and I pulled on trouble's braids
I spanked cold red mud
where the hornet stung deep
and I tossed in the ditch
in a restless sleep
and I pulled on trouble's braids
I hung my rain-soaked jacket
on some old barbed wire
poured cold rusty water
on a miserable fire
I pulled on trouble's braids
the creek was swollen by daybreak and I could just
barely see
and I floated downstream
on an old dead tree
and I pulled on trouble's braids
I pulled on trouble's braids
I pulled on trouble's braids
I pulled on trouble's braids
. . .
|
|
. . .
|