Songs That Tell Stories

A great song by Gene Watson called "The Old Man And His Horn" It's credited to anonymous and can be found on Gene Watson's Greatest Hits.

don't know if this one's here or not but "and the band played waltzing matilda" is a damn good story song

AND THE BAND PLAYED WALTZING MATILDA
Eric Bogle

When I was a young man I carried my pack
And I lived the free life of a rover
From the Murrays green basin to the dusty outback
I waltzed my Matilda all over
Then in nineteen fifteen my country said Son
It's time to stop rambling 'cause there's work to be done
So they gave me a tin hat and they gave me a gun
And they sent me away to the war
And the band played Waltzing Matilda
As we sailed away from the quay
And amidst all the tears and the shouts and the cheers
We sailed off to Gallipoli

How well I remember that terrible day
How the blood stained the sand and the water
And how in that hell that they called Suvla Bay
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter
Johnny Turk he was ready, he primed himself well
He chased us with bullets, he rained us with shells
And in five minutes flat he'd blown us all to hell
Nearly blew us right back to Australia
But the band played Waltzing Matilda
As we stopped to bury our slain
We buried ours and the Turks buried theirs
Then we started all over again

Now those that were left, well we tried to survive
In a mad world of blood, death and fire
And for ten weary weeks I kept myself alive
But around me the corpses piled higher
Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over tit
And when I woke up in my hospital bed
And saw what it had done, I wished I was dead
Never knew there were worse things than dying
For no more I'll go waltzing Matilda
All around the green bush far and near
For to hump tent and pegs, a man needs two legs
No more waltzing Matilda for me

So they collected the cripples, the wounded, the maimed
And they shipped us back home to Australia
The armless, the legless, the blind, the insane
Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla
And as our ship pulled into Circular Quay
I looked at the place where my legs used to be
And thank Christ there was nobody waiting for me
To grieve and to mourn and to pity
And the band played Waltzing Matilda
As they carried us down the gangway
But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared
Then turned all their faces away

And now every April I sit on my porch
And I watch the parade pass before me
And I watch my old comrades, how proudly they march
Reliving old dreams of past glory
And the old men march slowly, all bent, stiff and sore
The forgotten heroes from a forgotten war
And the young people ask, "What are they marching for?"
And I ask myself the same question
And the band plays Waltzing Matilda
And the old men answer to the call
But year after year their numbers get fewer
Some day no one will march there at all

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda
Who'll come a waltzing Matilda with me
And their ghosts may be heard as you pass the Billabong
Who'll come-a-waltzing Matilda with me?

San Angelo by Marty Robbins

North of the border of Old Mexico
I rode one day to the cowtown of San Angelo
A hot sun was glowing, a hot breeze was blowing
Still not as warm as the lips that I waited to kiss


She sent a message a long time ago
Secora had promised to meet me in San Angelo
I was aware of the chance I was taking
I was an outlaw but great was my love for this girl

I must be with her I can't stay away
Nights spent without her are lonely and so are the days
If it means death then I'll have to chance it
Only a few minutes more and she'll be at my side


At ten o' clock in the morning
I tied my horse and I started to walk down the street
Where was Secora, had she forgotten
This was the day and the hour that she wanted to meet
But something is wrong with our plans and I fear death awaits me
Here on this hot dusty street.

Up on a housetop but still I can see
There hides a man with a rifle, it's pointed at me
I might escape from the man with a rifle
But there are others just like him that I cannot see

Back of each window the click of a gun
Die if I stay and my love for her won't let me run
Where is Secora, will my eyes see her
Then in a moment she runs from a door down the street

"Up on your horse", she is crying
"Ride out of town it's a trap and they're waiting for you"
But if I ride out, she must ride with me
Then in a moment I know that our chances are gone
For a bullet is well on its way and it finds my Secora
She cries as she falls in my arms

Over and over her soft lips did say
"Now we're together, I won't let them take you away"
one little sigh, her little lips tremble
Then it was over, Secora had drifted away

Tears dim my vision but plainly I see
The ranger that killed her is standing there waiting for me
I rise to meet him, my one thought it beat him
He deserves death and I swear that this ranger will die

I beat his draw and I shot him
Shot him six times just as fast as the bullets could fly
My gun is empty or more I would shoot him
Now there are others just like him that want me to die
Their bullets are coming my way, how they hurt when they hit me
The pain makes me fall to the ground.

Gone is my strength, just the will left to fight
I hear the sound of the lead as it robs me of life
If I must die, let me find Secora
Let me hold on to her hand for the few moments left

Blindly I search and it isn't in vain
I touch the soft velvet hand and it eases the pain
Life is no more but we're together
Even in death she's my lover,
it's over,
goodbye

The Queen & The Soldier, by Suzanne Vega - beautiful simple tune that goes with it.

The soldier came knocking upon the queen's door
He said, "I am not fighting for you any more"
The queen knew she'd seen his face someplace before
And slowly she let him inside.


He said, "I've watched your palace up here on the hill
And I've wondered who's the woman for whom we all kill
But I am leaving tomorrow and you can do what you will
Only first I am asking you why."


Down in the long narrow hall he was led
Into her rooms with her tapestries red
And she never once took the crown from her head
She asked him there to sit down.


He said, "I see you now, and you are so very young
But I've seen more battles lost than I have battles won
And I've got this intuition, says it's all for your fun
And now will you tell me why?"


The young queen, she fixed him with an arrogant eye
She said, "You won't understand, and you may as well not try"
But her face was a child's, and he thought she would cry
But she closed herself up like a fan.


And she said, "I've swallowed a secret burning thread
It cuts me inside, and often I've bled"
He laid his hand then on top of her head
And he bowed her down to the ground.


"Tell me how hungry are you? How weak you must feel
As you are living here alone, and you are never revealed
But I won't march again on your battlefield"
And he took her to the window to see.


And the sun, it was gold, though the sky, it was gray
And she wanted more than she ever could say
But she knew how it frightened her, and she turned away
And would not look at his face again.


And he said, "I want to live as an honest man
To get all I deserve and to give all I can
And to love a young woman who I don't understand
Your highness, your ways are very strange."


But the crown, it had fallen, and she thought she would break
And she stood there, ashamed of the way her heart ached
She took him to the doorstep and she asked him to wait
She would only be a moment inside.


Out in the distance her order was heard
And the soldier was killed, still waiting for her word
And while the queen went on strangeling in the solitude she preferred
The battle continued on

telegraph Road, by Dire Straits

A long time ago came a man on a track
walking thirty miles with a pack on his back
and he put down his load where he thought it was the best
made a home in the wilderness
he built a cabin and a winter store
and he ploughed up the ground by the cold lake shore
and the other travellers came riding down the track
and they never went further, no, they never went back
then came the churches then came the schools
then came the lawyers then came the rules
then came the trains and the trucks with their loads
and the dirty old track was the telegraph road
Then came the mines - then came the ore
then there was the hard times then there was a war
telegraph sang a song about the world outside
telegraph road got so deep and so wide
like a rolling river. . .
And my radio says tonight it's gonna freeze
people driving home from the factories
there's six lanes of traffic
three lanes moving slow. . .
I used to like to go to work but they shut it down
I got a right to go to work but there's no work here to be found
yes and they say we're gonna have to pay what's owed
we're gonna have to reap from some seed that's been sowed
and the birds up on the wires and the telegraph poles
they can always fly away from this rain and this cold
you can hear them singing out their telegraph code
all the way down the telegraph road
You know I'd sooner forget but I remember those nights
when life was just a bet on a race between the lights
you had your head on my shoulder you had your hand in my hair
now you act a little colder like you don't seem to care
but believe in me baby and I'll take you away
from out of this darkness and into the day
from these rivers of headlights these rivers of rain
from the anger that lives on the streets with these names
'cos I've run every red light on memory lane
I've seen desperation explode into flames
and I don't want to see it again. . .
From all of these signs saying sorry but we're closed
all the way down the telegraph road

That's Entertainment, by The Jam - supposed written in 30 minutes by Paul Weller when he got home from the pub one night.

A police car and a screaming siren -
A pneumatic drill and ripped up concrete -
A baby wailing and stray dog howling -
The screech of brakes and lamp light blinking -
That's Entertainment.

A smash of glass and a rumble of boots -
An electric train and a ripped up 'phone booth -
Paint splattered walls and the cry of a tomcat -
Lights going out and a kick in the balls -
That's Entertainment.

Days of speed and slow time Mondays -
Pissing down with rain on a boring Wednesday -
Watching the news and not eating your tea -
A freezing cold flat and damp on the walls -
That's Entertainment.

Waking up at 6 a.m. on a cool warm morning -
Opening the windows and breathing in petrol -
An amateur band rehearsing in a nearby yard -
Watching the tele and thinking about your holidays -
That's Entertainment.

Waking up from bad dreams and smoking cigarettes -
Cuddling a warm girl and smelling stale perfume -
A hot summer's day and sticky black tarmac -
Feeding ducks in the park and wishing you were far away -
That's Entertainment.

Two lovers kissing amongst the scream of midnight -
Two lovers missing the tranquility of solitude -
Getting a cab and travelling on buses -
Reading the graffiti about slashed seat affairs -
That's Entertainment.

Thanks for bearing with me through those three - fave stories to tune.

all good ones, imapom.

That Jam song is one of my favourites! This one is still so relevant today:

LITTLE BOY SOLDIERS
The Jam

Its funny how you never knew what my name was,
Our only contact was a form for the election.
These days I find that you don't listen,
These days I find that we're out of touch,
These days I find that I'm too busy,
So why the attention now you want my assistance -
What have you done for me.

You've gone and got yourself in trouble,
No you want me to help you out.

These days I find that I can't be bothered,
These days I find that its all too much,
To pick up a gun and shoot a stranger,
But I've got no choice so here I come - war games.

I'm up on the hills, playing little boy soldiers,
Reconnaissance duty up at 5:30.
Shoot shoot shoot and kill the natives,
You're one of us and we love you for that.

Think of honour, Queen and country,
You're a blessed son of the British Empire,
God's on our side and so is Washington.

Come out on the hills with the little boy soldiers.

Come on outside - I'll sing you a lullaby,
Or tell a tale of how goodness prevailed.

We ruled the world - we killed and robbed,
The f***ing lot - but we don't feel bad.

It was done beneath the flag of democracy,
You'll believe and I do - yes I do - yes I do -
yes I do -

These days I find that I can't be bothered,
To argue with them well what's the point,
Better to take your shots and drop down dead,
then they send you home in a pine overcoat

With a letter to your mum

Saying find enclosed one son - one medal and a note -
to say he won.

thanks raggedyaggie for the rest of the lyrics

i wanted to post a Suzanne Vega - Fancy Poultry - I can't find the lyrics anywhere though

Here ya go, Vivien:

IROUNBOUND/FANCY POULTRY
Suzanne Vega

In the ironbound section near Avenue L
where the Portuguese women come to see what you sell
the clouds so low the morning so slow
as the wires cut through the sky

The beams and bridges cut the light on the ground
into little triangles and the rails run round
through the rust and the heat
the light and sweet coffee color of her skin

Bound up in wire and fate
watching her walk him up to the gate
in front of the ironbound school yard.

Kids will grow like weeds on a fence
She says they look for the light they try to make sense.
They come up through the cracks
Like grass on the tracks
She touches him goodbye.

Steps off the curb and into the street
the blood and feathers near her feet
into the ironbound market

In the ironbound section near Avenue L
where the Portuguese women come to see what you sell
the clouds so low the morning so slow
as the wires cut through the sky

She stops at the stall
fingers the ring
opens her purse
feels a longing
away from the ironbound border

"Fancy poulty parts sold here.
Breasts and thighs and hearts.
Backs are cheap and wings are nearly free.
Nearly free"

"Waltzing Matilda" took me back to the stories my mother passed on from her father who landed on Gallipoli.

Thanks for the Vega. She's a serious threat.

Here's a country song by Trisha Yearwood that underlines my contention: Songwriters in Nashville are turning out prose and music that is the soul of this great nation. A sort of American Haiku if you will. Any debaters?


The Song Remembers When
(Hugh Prestwood)

I was standing at the counter
I was waiting for the change
When I heard that old familiar music start
It was like a lighted match
Had been tossed into my soul
It was like a dam had broken in my heart

After taking every detour
Getting lost and losing track
So that even if I wanted
I could not find my way back
After driving out the memory
Of the way things might have been
After I'd forgotten all about us
The song remembers when

We were rolling through the Rockies
We were up above the clouds
When a station out of Jackson played that song
And it seemed to fit the moment
And the moment seemed to freeze
When we turned the music up and sang along

And there was a God in Heaven
And the world made perfect sense
We were young and were in love
And we were easy to convince
We were headed straight for Eden
It was just around the bend
And though I have forgotten all about it
The song remembers when

I guess something must have happened
And we must have said goodbye
And my heart must have been broken
Though I can't recall just why
The song remembers when

Well, for all the miles between us
And for all the time that's passed
You would think I haven't gotten very far
And I hope my hasty heart
Will forgive me just this once
If I stop to wonder how on Earth you are

But that's just a lot of water
Underneath a bridge I burned
And there's no use in backtracking
Around corners I have turned
Still I guess some things we bury
Are just bound to rise again
For even if the whole world has forgotten

The song remembers when
Yeah, and even if the whole world has forgotten
The song remembers when

That's some good lyric writing, panzade.

Thanks Edgar, you're my mentor in this thread.

The Butcher Boy
Trad.

In Moore st , where I did dwell,
A butcher boy I loved him well,
He courted me, for many a day,
He stole from me, my heart away.

CHORUS:

I wish, I wish, I wish in vain,
I wish I was a maid again,
A maid again I ne'er can be,
till apples grow on an ivy tree.

There is an inn in that same town And there my love he sits him down: He takes a strange girl on his knee And tells her what he wouldn't tell me.

REPEAT CHORUS

The reason is I'Il tell you why, Because she's got more gold than I, But gold will melt and silver fly And in time of need be as poor as I.

REPEAT CHORUS

I'll go upstairs and make my bed, "
There's nothing to do," my mother said.
My mother she has followed me,
Saying "that is the matter, mi daughter dear."

"Oh mother dear, you little know
What pains and sorrows or what woe.
Go get a chair and sit me down
With pen and ink I'll write all down."

Her father he came home that night,
Enquiring for his heart's delight,
He went upstairs, the door he broke,
He found her hanging on a rope.

He took a knife and cut her down
And in her bosom these lines he found:
"Oh what a foolish girl was I
To hang myself for a butcher's boy."

"Go dig my grave both wide and deep,
Put a marble stone at my head and feet,
And on my grave place a turtle dove,
To show the world that I died for love."

Cav...sniff...has a habit of....snifff...making my eyes water. Where'd you get this?...and how'd it slip under my music radar?

panzade, there are many versions of this traditional English folk song, which made it's way into the Irish lexicon, among others. Some versions have the butcher boy cutting down the dead girl, and some the father.