Songs That Tell Stories

nice

Richard Thompson is very good at telling stories. "Bee's Wing" and "Vincent Black Lightning" deserve to be movies.

for sure.

i was lucky enough to see him do a solo acoustic gig at a little room run by an acoustic guitar store out here called "mccabes" about 20 years ago.

the only thing more impressive than his story telling ability is absolutely amazing guitar playing, acoustic and electric.

i don't remember which song it was, but he did an incredible electric solo on the last robert plant record, fate of nations.

Don't Tread -- I've seen Thompson at least three times, once in a very old church that had a balcony that ran the length of the building on either side. We arrived early and chose to go to the balcony and sat "stage left," just above Thompson. We could see every pick and strum and chord change!

cool stuff!

he's one of the few remaining masters of that kind of music. john renbourne comes to mind as does bert jansch.

unlike most of my musician buddies, my age, i have a very open mind regarding new music and bands (one dummer we jam with sometimes says often that "there hasn't been any good music since 1975. and half of what was going on then was that keyboard crap!" ).

but i do have to say that i really don't see many of the all around good guitar players and such these days. as much as it pains me to say it, the main field i still hear the most good organic players is country.

(stop laughing over there, pan :wink: )

Nearly every Chapin song tells a story. I don't know if this gem's been mentioned ...

30,000 Pounds of Bananas, by Harry Chapin


It was just after dark when the truck started down
the hill that leads into Scranton Pennsylvania.
Carrying thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
Carrying thirty thousand pounds (hit it Big John) of bananas.

He was a young driver,
just out on his second job.
And he was carrying the next day's pasty fruits
for everyone in that coal-scarred city
where children play without despair
in backyard slag-piles and folks manage to eat each day
about thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
Yes, just about thirty thousand pounds (scream it again, John) .

He passed a sign that he should have seen,
saying "shift to low gear, a fifty dollar fine my friend."
He was thinking perhaps about the warm-breathed woman
who was waiting at the journey's end.
He started down the two mile drop,
the curving road that wound from the top of the hill.
He was pushing on through the shortening miles that ran down to the depot.
Just a few more miles to go,
then he'd go home and have her ease his long, cramped day away.
and the smell of thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
Yes the smell of thirty thousand pounds of bananas.

He was picking speed as the city spread its twinkling lights below him.
But he paid no heed as the shivering thoughts of the nights
delights went through him.
His foot nudged the brakes to slow him down.
But the pedal floored easy without a sound.
He said "Christ!"
It was funny how he had named the only man who could save him now.
He was trapped inside a dead-end hellslide,
riding on his fear-hunched back
was every one of those yellow green
I'm telling you thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
Yes, there were thirty thousand pounds of bananas.

He barely made the sweeping curve that led into the steepest grade.
And he missed the thankful passing bus at ninety miles an hour.
And he said "God, make it a dream!"
as he rode his last ride down.
And he said "God, make it a dream!"
as he rode his last ride down.
And he sideswiped nineteen neat parked cars,
clipped off thirteen telephone poles,
hit two houses, bruised eight trees,
and Blue-Crossed seven people.
it was then he lost his head,
not to mention an arm or two before he stopped.
And he slid for four hundred yards
along the hill that leads into Scranton, Pennsylvania.
All those thirty thousand pounds of bananas.

You know the man who told me about it on the bus,
as it went up the hill out of Scranton, Pennsylvania,
he shrugged his shoulders, he shook his head,
and he said (and this is exactly what he said)
"Boy that sure must've been something.
Just imagine thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
Yes, there were thirty thousand pounds of mashed bananas.
Of bananas. Just bananas. Thirty thousand pounds.
of Bananas. not no driver now. Just bananas!

Don't tread -- I just saw Renbourne Saturday night at Club Passim in Harvard Square. Great show!

i bet. never had the opportunity. he's a really wonderful player. he's done some good solo stuff, and his work with pentangle is still pretty freakin' impressive.

Are these ALL the lyrics to "go hide john"?

I know Red Sovine recorded a single 45 rpm of "go hide john" in 1973 .........but i think Stonewall Jackson also recorded it........but searches have been futile........i am still a newbie ! ..... I hope somebody can post all of the lyrics to this wonderful ,heartbreaking story. ..thank you

recorded by johnny horton and the dirt band as well

Battle Of New Orleans

In 1814 we took a little trip, Along with Col. Jackson
down the mighty Mississip. We took a little bacon, and
we took a little beans. And we met the bloody British near
the town of New Orleans.
Chorus I
We looked down the river and we seen the British come,
An there must have been a hundred of them beatin on the drum.
They stepped so high & they made their bugles ring, we
stood beside our cotton bails & didn't say a thing.
Chorus I
Old Hickory said we could take 'em by surprise if we didn't
fire our muskets 'til we looked them in the eye.
We held our fire 'til we see'd their faces well, then we
opened up our squirrel guns & really gave 'em WELL....
Chorus I
Chorus II
They ran thru the briars and they ran thru the brambles and
they ran thru the bushes where a rabbit wouldn't go.
They ran so fast the the hounds couldn't catch 'em on down
the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico.
We fired our cannon till the barrel melted down, then we grabbed
an alligator & we fought another round. We filled his head with
cannon balls, & powered his behind 'n when we touched the
powder off the gator lost his mind.
Chorus I
Chorus II

Everything That Glitters (Is Not Gold): Dan Seals


Saw your picture on a poster in a cafe out in Phoenix;
Guess you're still the sweet heart of the rodeo.
As for me and little Casey, we still make the circuit,
In a one-horse trailer and a mobile home.
And she still asks about you all the time,
And I guess we never even cross your mind

But oh sometimes I think about you,
And the way you used to ride out,
In your rhinestones and your sequins,
With the sunlight on your hair.
And, oh, the crowd will always love you,
But as for me, I've come to know.
Everything that glitters is not gold.

Well old Red he's getting older,
And last Saturday he stumbled.
But you know I just can't bear to let him go.
Little Casey, she's still growing,
And she's started asking questions,
And there's certain things a man just doesn't know.
Her birthday came and you never even called:
I guess we never cross your mind at all.

But oh sometimes I think about you,
And the way you used to ride out,
In your rhinestones and your sequins,
With the sunlight on your hair.
And, oh, the crowd will always love you,
But as for me, I've come to know.
Everything that glitters is not gold.

Everybody said you'd make it big someday,
And I guess that we were only in your way,
But someday I'm sure your gonna know the cost.
'Cos for everything you win there's something lost.

But oh sometimes I think about you,
And the way you used to ride out,
In your rhinestones and your sequins,
With the sunlight on your hair.
And, oh, the crowd will always love you,
But as for me, I've come to know.
Everything that glitters is not gold.

Written by Bob McDill and Dan Seals.
(© Ranger Bob Music.)
From "In a Quiet Room", © 1995, Intersound

I love the co-writer Bob McDill .Thanks for the tune.

I like his songs too ;0)

Remember this?

DUTCHMAN'S GOLD
Walter Brennan

Chorus:
DUTCHMAN'S GOLD, OH, DUTCHMAN'S GOLD...

Brennan:
IN THE ARIZONA DESERT..
STANDS A GIANT OF EARTH AND STONE..
MIGHTY SUPERSTITION MOUNTAIN..
WITH IT'S MYSTERY AND IT'S GOLD..

A MINER, OUT PROSPECTIN'..
FOUND HIS FORTUNE AND HIS FAME..
FOUND THE GOLD OF SUPERSTITION..
JUST PLAIN DUTCHMAN, WAS HIS NAME..

Chorus:
OH, THE DUTCHMAN WAS A GAMBLER..
AND A PARTY WAS HIS FUN..
BUT HE KEPT HIS PRECIOUS SECRET..
NEVER TRUSTING ANYONE..

AND IN DEATH, HE STILL IS LAUGHING..
FOR THE GRAVE HIS SECRET HOLDS..
AND THE MIGHTY SUPERSTITION..
KEEPS THE DUTCHMAN'S YELLOW GOLD..

YELLOW GOLD..

Brennan:
MIGHTY SUPERSTITION MOUNTAIN..
STANDING HIGH AND ALL ALONE..
ONCE YOU TOLD YOUR PRECIOUS SECRET..
AND YOU GAVE YOUR SOFT, PURE GOLD..

'PACHE INDIANS KNOW THE STORY..
AND IN LEGEND THERE IS TOLD..
MANY TALES OF THE BEGININ'..
WHEN YOU GAVE YOUR YELLA GOLD..

NOW I'D LIKE TO DREAM AND WONDER..
IF SOMEDAY YOU'LL GIVE AGAIN..
THE BOUNTY OF YOUR TREASURE..
TO SOME LONELY, STRUGGLIN' MAN..

AND IF YOU, IN ALL YOUR SPLENDOR..
MAY CHOOSE ME TO BE THE ONE..
TO FIND YOUR PRECIOUS TREASURE..
SHININ' YELLA, IN THE SUN..

Chorus:
OH, THE DUTCHMAN WAS A GAMBLER..
AND A PARTY WAS HIS FUN..
BUT HE KEPT HIS PRECIOUS SECRET..
NEVER TRUSTING ANYONE..

AND IN DEATH, HE STILL IS LAUGHING..
FOR THE GRAVE HIS SECRET HOLDS..
AND THE MIGHTY SUPERSTITION..
KEEPS THE DUTCHMAN'S YELLOW GOLD..

YELLOW GOLD..
YELLOW GOLD..
YELLOW GOLD..
DUTCHMAN'S GOLD!

I loved Walter Brennan.

He was a hoot in The Real McCoys


This song we have to do almost every night...very popular.

Larry Gatlin

All the gold in California
Is in a bank in the middle of Beverly Hills
In somebody else's name
So if you're dreaming about California
It don't matter at all where you've played before
California's a brand new game

Tryin' to be a hero, winding up a zero
Can scar a man forever right down to your soul
Living on the spotlight can kill a man outright
Cause everything that glitters is not gold

One more:
The Christmas Guest


(Grandpa Jones/Bill Walker)

It happened one day near December's end
Two neighbors called on an old friend
And they found his shop so meager and lame
Made gay with a thousand bows of green
And Conrad was sittin' with face ashined
When he suddenly stopped as he stiched a twine
And he said "Oh friends at dawn today
When the cock was crowin' the night away
The Lord appeared in a dream to me
And said 'I'm comin' your guest to be.'
So I've been busy with feet astir
And strewin' my shop with branches of fir
The table is spread and the kettle is shined
And over the rafters the holly is twined
Now I'll wait for my Lord to appear
And listen closely so I will hear His step
As He nears my humble place
And I'll open the door and look on His face"
So his friends went home and left Conrad alone
For this was the happiest day he'd known
For long since his family had passed away
And Conrad had spent many a sad Christmas day
But he knew with the Lord as his Christmas guest
This Christmas would be the dearest and best
So he listened with only joy in his heart
And with every sound he would rise with a start
And look for the Lord to be at his door
Like the vision he'd had a few hours before
So he ran to the window after hearin' a sound
But all he could see on the snow-covered ground
Was a shabby begger who's shoes were torn
And all of his clothes were ragged and worn
But Conrad was touched and he went to the door
And he said "You know, your feet must be frozen and sore
I have some shoes in my shop for you
And a coat that'll keep you warmer too"
So with grateful heart, the man went away
But Conrad noticed the time of day
And wondered what made the Lord so late
And how much longer he'd have to wait
When he heard a knock he ran to the door
But it was only a stranger once more
A bent ol' lady with a shawl of black
With a bundle of kindlin' piled on her back
She asked for only a place to rest
But that was reserved for Conrad's great guest
But her voice seemed to plead "Don't send me away
Let me rest for awhile on Christmas day"
So Conrad brewed her a steamin' cup
And told her to sit at the table and sup
But after she left he was filled with dismay
For he saw that the hours were slippin' away
And the Lord hadn't come as He said He would
And Conrad felt sure he'd misunderstood
When out of the stillness he heard a cry
"Please help me, and tell me where am I!"
So again he opened his friendly door
And stood disappointed as twice before
It was only a child who'd wandered away
And was lost from her family on Christmas day
Again, Conrad's heart was heavy and sad
But he knew he should make the little girl glad
So he called her in and he wiped her tears
And quieted all her childish fears
Then he led her back to her home once more
But as he entered his own darkened door
He knew the Lord was not comin' today
For the hours of Christmas had passed away
So he went to his room and he knelt down to pray
And he said "Dear Lord, why did You delay?
What kept You from comin' to call on me?
For I wanted so much Your Face to see"
When soft in the silence, a voice he heard
"Lift up your head, for I kept my word
Three times my shadow crossed your floor
And three times I came to your lonely door
I was the begger with bruised, cold feet
And I was the woman you gave somethin' to eat
I was the child on the homeless street.
Three times I knocked and three times I came in
And each time I found the warmth of a friend
Of all the gifts love is the best
And I was honored to be your Christmas guest."

One more:
The Christmas Guest


(Grandpa Jones/Bill Walker)

It happened one day near December's end
Two neighbors called on an old friend
And they found his shop so meager and lame
Made gay with a thousand bows of green
And Conrad was sittin' with face ashined
When he suddenly stopped as he stiched a twine
And he said "Oh friends at dawn today
When the cock was crowin' the night away
The Lord appeared in a dream to me
And said 'I'm comin' your guest to be.'
So I've been busy with feet astir
And strewin' my shop with branches of fir
The table is spread and the kettle is shined
And over the rafters the holly is twined
Now I'll wait for my Lord to appear
And listen closely so I will hear His step
As He nears my humble place
And I'll open the door and look on His face"
So his friends went home and left Conrad alone
For this was the happiest day he'd known
For long since his family had passed away
And Conrad had spent many a sad Christmas day
But he knew with the Lord as his Christmas guest
This Christmas would be the dearest and best
So he listened with only joy in his heart
And with every sound he would rise with a start
And look for the Lord to be at his door
Like the vision he'd had a few hours before
So he ran to the window after hearin' a sound
But all he could see on the snow-covered ground
Was a shabby begger who's shoes were torn
And all of his clothes were ragged and worn
But Conrad was touched and he went to the door
And he said "You know, your feet must be frozen and sore
I have some shoes in my shop for you
And a coat that'll keep you warmer too"
So with grateful heart, the man went away
But Conrad noticed the time of day
And wondered what made the Lord so late
And how much longer he'd have to wait
When he heard a knock he ran to the door
But it was only a stranger once more
A bent ol' lady with a shawl of black
With a bundle of kindlin' piled on her back
She asked for only a place to rest
But that was reserved for Conrad's great guest
But her voice seemed to plead "Don't send me away
Let me rest for awhile on Christmas day"
So Conrad brewed her a steamin' cup
And told her to sit at the table and sup
But after she left he was filled with dismay
For he saw that the hours were slippin' away
And the Lord hadn't come as He said He would
And Conrad felt sure he'd misunderstood
When out of the stillness he heard a cry
"Please help me, and tell me where am I!"
So again he opened his friendly door
And stood disappointed as twice before
It was only a child who'd wandered away
And was lost from her family on Christmas day
Again, Conrad's heart was heavy and sad
But he knew he should make the little girl glad
So he called her in and he wiped her tears
And quieted all her childish fears
Then he led her back to her home once more
But as he entered his own darkened door
He knew the Lord was not comin' today
For the hours of Christmas had passed away
So he went to his room and he knelt down to pray
And he said "Dear Lord, why did You delay?
What kept You from comin' to call on me?
For I wanted so much Your Face to see"
When soft in the silence, a voice he heard
"Lift up your head, for I kept my word
Three times my shadow crossed your floor
And three times I came to your lonely door
I was the begger with bruised, cold feet
And I was the woman you gave somethin' to eat
I was the child on the homeless street.
Three times I knocked and three times I came in
And each time I found the warmth of a friend
Of all the gifts love is the best
And I was honored to be your Christmas guest."

Oops! Sorry about the double post..

Carry Me words and music by David Crosby
© 1975 Staysail Music (BMI)

When I was a young man I found an old dream
was as battered and worn a one as you have ever seen
But I made it some new wings and I painted a nose
and I wished so hard up in the air I rose, singing
Carry me, carry me, carry me above the world
Carry me, carry me, carry me
..
And I once loved a girl
she was younger than me
Her parents kept her locked up in their life
and she was crying at night
she was wishing she could be free
`Course mostly I remember her laughing
standing there watching us play
For a while there, the music would take her away
and she'd be singing
Carry me, carry me, carry me above the world
Carry me, carry me, carry me above the world
..
And then there was my mother
she was lying in white sheets there/and she was waiting to die
She said if you'd just reach underneath this bed
and untie these weights,
I could surely fly
She's still smiling but she's tired,
she'd like to hear that last bell ring
You know if she still could she would
stand up, and she could sing, singing
Carry me, carry me, carry me above the world
Carry me, carry me, carry me