What the hey; it's all mammal.
cavfancier wrote:Thanks for posting jarlaxle.
We always appreciate your venom.
If you can say with a straight face that the person who wrote that DOESN'T have some issues, then YOU have some issues.
Garth Brooks, "That Summer"
Quote:I went to work for her that summer
A teenage kid so far from home
She was a lonely widow woman
Hell-bent to make it on her own
We were a thousand miles from nowhere
Wheat fields as far as I could see
Both needing something from each other
Not knowing yet what that might be.
'Til she came to me one evening
Hot cup of coffee and a smile
In a dress that I was certain
She hadn't worn in quite a while
There was a difference in her laughter
There was a softness in her eyes
And on the air there was a hunger
Even a boy could recognize.
She had a need to feel the thunder
To chase the lightning from the sky
To watch a storm with all its wonder
Raging in her lover's eyes
She had to ride the heat of passion
Like a comet burning bright
Rushing headlong in the wind
Now where only dreams have been
Burning both ends of the night.
That summer wind was all around us
Nothing between us but the night
When I told her that I'd never
She softly whispered that's alright
And then I watched her hands of leather
Turn to velvet in a touch
There's never been another summer
When I have ever learned so much.
We had a need to feel the thunder
To chase the lightning from the sky
To watch a storm with all its wonder
Raging in each other's eyes
We had to ride the heat of passion
Like a comet burning bright
Rushing headlong in the wind
Now where only dreams have been
Burning both ends of the night.
I often think about that summer
The sweat, the moonlight, and the lace
And I have rarely held another
When I haven't seen her face
And every time I pass a wheat field
And watch it dancing in the wind
Although I know it isn't real
I just can't help but feel
Her hungry arms again.
She had a need to feel the thunder
To chase the lightning from the sky
To watch a storm with all its wonder
Raging in her lover's eyes
She had to ride the heat of passion
Like a comet burning bright
Rushing headlong in the wind
Now where only dreams have been
Burning both ends of the night.
Rushing headlong in the wind
Now where only dreams have been
Burnin' both ends of the night
A tragic story, but still a story, again from Garth Brooks: "The Beaches of Cheyenne"
Quote:They packed up all his buckles
And shipped his saddle to his dad
By the way the house looked
She must have took it bad.
The workers come on Monday
To fix the door and patch the wall.
They say she just went crazy
The night she got the call.
He was up in Wyoming
And drew a bull no man could ride.
He promised her he'd turn out
Well it turned out that he lied.
And their dreams that they'd been livin'
In the California sand
Died right there beside him in Cheyenne.
(chorus)
They she just went crazy
Screamin' out his name
She ran out into the ocean
And to this day they claim
That if you go down by the water
You'll see her footprints in the sand
'Cause every night she walks the beaches of Cheyenne.
They never found her body
Just her diary by the bed
It told about the fight they had
And the words that she had said.
When he told her he was ridin'
She said then I don't give a damn
If you never come back from Cheyenne.
*chorus*
Nobody can explain it
Some say she's still alive
They even claim they've seen her
On the shoreline late at night.
So if you go down by the water
You'll see her footprints in the sand
'Cause every night she walks the beaches of Cheyenne.
Yes, every night she walks the beaches of Cheyenne.
Sounds like my kind of woman.
North Country Blues
Come gather 'round friends
And I'll tell you a tale
Of when the red iron pits ran plenty.
But the cardboard filled windows
And old men on the benches
Tell you now that the whole town is empty.
In the north end of town,
My own children are grown
But I was raised on the other.
In the wee hours of youth,
My mother took sick
And I was brought up by my brother.
The iron ore poured
As the years passed the door,
The drag lines an' the shovels they was a-humming.
'Til one day my brother
Failed to come home
The same as my father before him.
Well a long winter's wait,
From the window I watched.
My friends they couldn't have been kinder.
And my schooling was cut
As I quit in the spring
To marry John Thomas, a miner.
Oh the years passed again
And the givin' was good,
With the lunch bucket filled every season.
What with three babies born,
The work was cut down
To a half a day's shift with no reason.
Then the shaft was soon shut
And more work was cut,
And the fire in the air, it felt frozen.
'Til a man come to speak
And he said in one week
That number eleven was closin'.
They complained in the East,
They are paying too high.
They say that your ore ain't worth digging.
That it's much cheaper down
In the South American towns
Where the miners work almost for nothing.
So the mining gates locked
And the red iron rotted
And the room smelled heavy from drinking.
Where the sad, silent song
Made the hour twice as long
As I waited for the sun to go sinking.
I lived by the window
As he talked to himself,
This silence of tongues it was building.
Then one morning's wake,
The bed it was bare,
And I's left alone with three children.
The summer is gone,
The ground's turning cold,
The stores one by one they're a-foldin'.
My children will go
As soon as they grow.
Well, there ain't nothing here now to hold them.
Jarl, I don't care for Garth but two of his better songs. I imagine he gets to cherry pick from the best Nashville scribes.
Big Joe and Phantom 309
Written by Tommy Faile
(Tom Waits version)
Well you see I happened to be back on the east coast
a few years back tryin' to make me a buck
like everybody else, well you know
times get hard and well I got down on my luck
and I got tired of just roamin' and bummin'
around, so I started thumbin' my way
back to my old hometown
you know I made quite a few miles
in the first couple of days, and I
figured I'd be home in a week if my
luck held out this way
but you know it was the third night
I got stranded, it was out at a cold lonely
crossroads, and as the rain came
pouring down, I was hungry, tired
freezin', caught myself a chill, but
it was just about that time that
the lights of an old semi topped the hill
you should of seen me smile when I
heard them air brakes come on, and
I climbed up in that cab where I
knew it'd be warm at the wheel
well at the wheel sat a big man
I'd have to say he must of weighed 210
the way he stuck out a big hand and
said with a grin "Big Joe's the name
and this here rig's called Phantom 309"
well I asked him why he called his
rig such a name, but he just turned to me
and said "Why son don't you know this here
rig'll be puttin' 'em all to shame, why
there ain't a driver on this
or any other line for that matter
that's seen nothin' but the taillights of Big Joe
and Phantom 309"
So we rode and talked the better part of the night
and I told my stories and Joe told his and
I smoked up all his Viceroys as we rolled along
he pushed her ahead with 10 forward gears
man that dashboard was lit like the old
Madam La Rue pinball, a serious semi truck
until almost mysteriously, well it was the
lights of a truck stop that rolled into sight
Joe turned to me and said "I'm sorry son
but I'm afraid this is just as far as you go
You see I kinda gotta be makin' a turn
just up the road a piece," but I'll be
damned if he didn't throw me a dime as he
threw her in low and said "Go on in there
son, and get yourself a hot cup of coffee
on Big Joe"
and when Joe and his rig pulled off into
the night, man in nothing flat they was
clean outa sight
so I walked into the old stop and
ordered me up a cup of mud sayin'
"Big Joe's settin' this dude up" but
it got so deathly quiet in that
place, you could of heard a pin drop
as the waiter's face turned kinda
pale, I said "What's the matter did
I say somethin' wrong?" I kinda
said with a half way grin. He said
"No son, you see It'll happen every
now and then. You see every driver in
here knows Big Joe, but let me
tell you what happened just 10 years
ago, yea it was 10 years ago
out there at that cold lonely crossroads
where you flagged Joe down, and
there was a whole bus load of kids
and they were just comin' from school
and they were right in the middle when
Joe topped the hill, and could
have been slaughtered except
Joe turned his wheels, and
he jacknifed, and went
into a skid, and folks around here
say he gave his life to save that bunch
of kids, and out there at that cold
lonely crossroads, well they say it
was the end of the line for
Big Joe and Phantom 309, but it's
funny you know, cause every now and then
yea every now and then, when the
moon's holdin' water, they say old Joe
will stop and give you a ride, and
just like you, some hitchhiker will be
comin' by"
"So here son," he said to me, "get
yourself another cup of coffee, it's on the
house, you see I want you to hang on
to that dime, yea you hang on to that
dime as a kind of souvenir, a
souvenir of Big Joe and Phantom 309"
Tom Waits and Tom T Hall. Great storytellers.
The Big Bopper's Wedding
And the man keeps sayin´ ´Do you take this woman
to be your awful wedded wife?´ Heh, heh
And then I started thinkin´ about no more winkin´
At the pretty little gals a-boppin´ by.
No more dancin´ and new romancin´
Lord, it made me want to sit down and cry.
Aw, no pool shootin´ and a rootin´ and a-tootin´
With the boys if I take you for my wife.
I can´t go no place, I gotta look at your face
For the rest of my dog gone life.
This is it!
Ah, honey, what am I doin´ here in the first place?
You knooooooow I don´t go for this marraige bit!
I was only kiddin´! Hahahahahahaha
And there´s your daddy sittin´ over there with a shotgun
layin´ across his lap
And a big smile on his ugly face.
And the man keeps sayin´ ´Are you gonna take this woman or aintcha?´
Well, then I started thinkin´ about no more winkin´
At the pretty little gals a-boppin´ by.
No more dancin´ and new romancin´
Lord, it made me want to sit down and cry.
Aw, no pool shootin´ and a rootin´ and a-tootin´
With the boys if I take you for my wife.
I can´t go no place, I gotta look at your face
For the rest of my dog gone life.
This is it!
Honey, what´s this jazz about Love, Honor, and Obey?
That cat´s talkin´ to me! Heheheh
And look at all these good lookin´ bride maids standin´ around, heh
Hellllllo, baaaby!
And the man in charge keeps sayin´ ´Looky here,
do you take this woman or dontcha?´
Well, then I started thinkin´ about no more winkin´
At the pretty little gals a-boppin´ by.
No more dancin´ and new romancin´
Lord, it made me want to sit down and cry.
Aw, no pool shootin´ and a rootin´ and a-tootin´
With the boys if I take you for my wife.
I can´t go no place, I gotta look at your face
For the rest of my dog gone life.
This is it!
And the man keeps sayin´ ´Look here, do you take this woman or dontcha?´
And I say ´Partnah, I don´t believe I do. Let me outa here
Whiskey in the Jar
As I was a-goin' over Gilgarra Mountain
I spied Colonel Farrell, and his money he was countin'.
First I drew my pistols and then I drew my rapier,
Sayin' "Stand and deliver, for I am your bold receiver."
Musha ringum duram da,
Whack fol the daddy-o,
There's whiskey in the jar.
He counted out his money and it made a pretty penny;
I put it in my pocket to take home to darlin' Jenny.
She sighed and swore she loved me and never would deceive me,
Bu the devil take the women, for they always lie so easy!
Musha rungum duram da
I went into me chamber all for to take a slumber,
To dream of gold and girls, and of course it was no wonder:
Me Jenny took me charges and she filled them up with water,
Called on Colonel Farrell to get ready for the slaughter.
Musha rungum duram da
Next mornin' early, before I rose for travel,
A-came a band of footmen and likewise Colonel Farrell.
I goes to draw my pistol, for she'd stole away my rapier,
But a prisoner I was taken, I couldn't shoot the water.
Musha rungum duram da
They put me into jail with a judge all a-writin':
For robbin' Colonel Farrell on Gilgarra Mountain.
But they didn't take me fists and I knocked the jailer down
And bid a farewell to this tight-fisted town.
Musha ringum duram da
I'd like to find me brother, the one who's in the army;
I don't know where he's stationed, be it Cork or in Killarney.
Together we'd go roamin' o'er the mountains of Kilkenny,
And I swear he'd treat me fairer than my darlin' sportin' Jenny!
Musha ringum duram da
There's some takes delight in the carriages and rollin',
Some takes delight in the hurley or the bollin',
But I takes delight in the juice of the barley,
Courtin' pretty maids in the mornin', o so early!
Musha ringum duram da
Cuban Soldier, The original Carter Family - recorded 1938
Far away in a Spanish dungeon
A Cuban soldier lay
Slowly dying from the torture
Inflicted day by day
He begged to send a message
But this kindness was denied
So he called his comrades to him
And told his story e're he died
When Cubie gains her freedom
And the Spaniards cease to reign
There's a loved one on that island
I will never see again
Oh find her for me comrades
And tell her you were by my side
And I bid you take this message
To a soldiers promised bride
Tis the same old story comrades
Love weeps when duty is done
When Cubie was struggling for her freedom
I was ordered to my gun
Though I'm a captain dying
The struggle will soon be o'er
Tell her I said to meet me
Where the soldiers fight no more
Money for Nothing - Dire Straits
Now look at them yo-yo's that's the way you do it
You play the guitar on the MTV
That ain't workin' that's the way you do it
Money for nothin' and chicks for free
Now that ain't workin' that's the way you do it
Lemme tell ya them guys ain't dumb
Maybe get a blister on your little finger
Maybe get a blister on your thumb
We gotta install microwave ovens
Custom kitchen deliveries
We gotta move these refrigerators
We gotta move these colour TV's
See the little faggot with the earring and the makeup
Yeah buddy that's his own hair
That little faggot got his own jet airplane
That little faggot he's a millionaire
We gotta install microwave ovesns
Custom kitchens deliveries
We gotta move these refrigerators
We gotta move these colour TV's
I shoulda learned to play the guitar
I shoulda learned to play them drums
Look at that mama, she got it stickin' in the camera
Man we could have some fun
And he's up there, what's that? Hawaiian noises?
Bangin' on the bongoes like a chimpanzee
That ain't workin' that's the way you do it
Get your money for nothin' get your chicks for free
We gotta install microwave ovens
Custom kitchen deliveries
We gotta move these refrigerators
We gotta move these colour TV's, Lord
Now that ain't workin' that's the way you do it
You play the guitar on the MTV
That ain't workin' that's the way you do it
Money for nothin' and your chicks for free
Money for nothin' and chicks for free
Mama Tried - by Merle Haggard
The first thing I remember knowin' was a lonesome whistle blowin',
And a youngun's dream of growin' up to ride,
On a freight train leavin' town, not knowin' where I'm bound.
And no one could change my mind but Mama tried.
One and only rebel child from a fam'ly meek and mild
My mama seemed to to know what lay in store,
'Spite all my Sunday learnin' towards the bad I kept on turnin',
'Til Mama couldn't hold me anymore.
And I turned twenty-one in prison doin' life without parole,
No one could steer me right but Mama tried, Mama tried.
Mama tried to raise me better, but her pleading I denied
And that leaves only me to blame, cause Mama tried
Dear ole' Daddy, rest his soul left my mom a heavy load,
She tried so very hard to feel his shoes,
Workin' hours without rest, wanted me to have the best
She tried to raise me right but I refused.
And I turned twenty-one in prison doin' life without parole,
No one could steer me right but Mama tried, Mama tried
Mama tried to raise me better but her pleading I denied
And that leaves only me to blame, cause Mama tried
Good morning EB - could not sleep so I told myself stories all night long.
Modest Mouse
The good times are killing me.
Here we go!
Got dirt, got air, got water and I know you can carry on.
Shrug off shortsighted false excitement and oh what can I say?
Have one, have twenty more "one mores" and oh it does not relent.
The good times are killing me.
Kick butt buzz-cut dickheads
who didn't like what I said.
The good times are killing me.
Jaws clenched tight we talked all night,
oh but what the hell did we say?
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
Fed up with all that LSD.
Need more sleep than coke or methamphetamines.
Late nights with warm, warm whiskey.
I guess the good times they were all just killing me.
Got dirt, got air, got water and I know you can carry on.
The good times are killing me.
Enough hair of the dog to make myself an entire rug.
The good times are killing me.
Have one, have twenty more "one mores" and oh it does not relent.
The good times are killing me.
****-kicker city slickers who all wanted me dead.
The good times are killing me.
Get sucked in and stuck in late nights
with more folks that I don't know.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
Thanks was feeling alone last night and found refuge here.
Great thread edgatblythe
