• Facebook Clean
  • Twitter Clean
  • White Instagram Icon

ALREADY GONE (By Butch Hancock)

You don’t know what you’re missing with your endless supplies

Of that infinite variety of the same old merchandise

She was standin’ in the corner – actin’ lonely and lazy

He had no way to warn her – why he was feelin’ so crazy

He just went out and he bought the fastest bike he could buy

Popped a wheelie in the alley – aimed it straight for the sky

He bit the dust on the highway – doin’ ninety, ninety-five

Just east of Albuquerque – singin’ sweet by and by

 

He followed her down – she took him for granted

He showed her his heart – she showed him the door

He showed her the road – she said I don’t understand it

When he died he was thinkin’ – baby here’s what it’s for

 

I asked my angel – if heaven was near

She said it’s closer than it looks

But you can’t get there from here

Where can you go? – when you’re already gone

Where can you go? – when you’re already gone

 

Peabody and your government – got no respect for this earth

They wanna move the Indians again from the very land of their birth

They wanna move big mountain – and cut the coal out from under

They don’t know about sunshine – they never listen to thunder

You know who “they” are – aw, but who are you?

To let them do this to a people – who’d never do this to you?

 

Would you follow them down – to the skids and the slums

Take somebody from a circle – turn ‘em into a bum

The great spirit’s with you – to the end of the earth

When ya die you’ll be thinkin’ – what the hell was it worth?

 

I asked my angel – if heaven was near

She just closed her eyes

You can’t get there from here

Where can you go? – when you’re already gone

Where can you go? – when you’re already gone

 

In the city of angels – I once caught a thief

He was 20 years off the reservation, the cops all called him chief

It’s more than mind over matter – it’s your body and soul

The last rung on the ladder – the poor and hungry and cold

It’s the moon above the mountains – it’s the snow on the ground

It’s a smokeless horizon – someone you don’t let down

But it’s those hearts that can’t feel – it’s those arms that won’t reach

And it’s sad but it’s real – these ain’t just figures of speech

 

America lies – from border to border

Signs treaties in disguise – forgets natures law and order

Rebuilds here statute of liberty – and has the band play a song

For another statute that’s cryin’ – where did I go wrong?

 

I asked my angel – if heaven was near ...

 

Butch Hancock , 1993

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

DRAFT AGE (By John Stewart)

Clarence Mulloy stands in his bedroom and stares,

He is going away.

Clarence Mulloy stands at the mirror and shaves,

Today is the day.

Oh, it had to come sooner or later

That the letter of greetings would say,

"Clarence, my boy, you are draft age today."

 

Clarence Mulloy looks at his shelves and the soldiers

Made out of clay.

Clarence Mulloy looks at his Ma and they know

There is nothing to say.

Boarding the bus on the corner,

Every face on the street seemed to say,

”Clarence Mulloy, you are draft age today."

 

And the boys have all gone to Balboa

With some girls that they met on the way,

And Alexis stayed home like you told her.

”Clarence Mulloy, you are draft age today.

 

Clarence Mulloy looks out the window and sees

What is passing him by.

Clarence Mulloy how incredibly short it can be,

It is making you cry.

And the dirty small boy that has seen you

Looks up from his baseball to say,

"Clarence Mulloy, you are draft age today."

 

And the boys have all gone to Balboa

With some girls that they met on the way,

And Alexis stayed home like you told her.

“Clarence Mulloy, you are draft age today.”

 

John Stewart, 1968

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

EQUIPMENT FAILURE

 QUARTER MASTER COMP’NY

WATER FOOD AND FUEL

PHONE CALL IN DETENTION

NOT AN INTERVIEW

 

CONVOY NORTH OF BAGHDAD

TRUCKS WERE BROKE TO SHIT

I’M ONLY A RESERVIST

I DIDN’T JOIN FOR THIS

 

MUTINY OR REPRIMAND

A TENT WITH ARMOURED GUARDS

MAIN SUPPLY ROUTE TAMPA

YOU WON’T GET VERY FAR

 

ROADSIDE BOMBS AND HAND GRENADES

WELCOME TO OUR HOME

INFERIOR EQUIPMENT

RATTLES LIKE A BONE

 

SOLDIER IN THE SAND

SO FAR FROM HOME

BURNED OUT BROKEN LAND

SO FAR FROM HOME

 

JERRY RIGGED WITH PLYWOOD

CALLED A COFFIN RIDE

FULLY ARMOURED VEHICLES

COULD SAVE A YOUNG MAN’S LIFE

 

SHORT ON AMMUNITION

NIGHT VISION GOGGLES TOO

LEFTOVERS FROM VIETNAM

THEY TOLD US TO MAKE DO

 

SOLDIER IN THE SAND …

 

PARENTS BUYING COMBAT GEAR

FROM LOCAL FIVE & DIMES

SPENDING BILL UP ON THE HILL

CONGRESS TAKES ITS TIME

 

REPLACEMENT PARTS FOR ABRAM TANKS

BULLETS FOR TO TRAIN

PAY THE PET BILL LEADERSHIP

PORK BARREL PROJECT SHAME

 

SOLDIER IN THE SAND …

 

CRISIS IN THE BAYOU

NATIONAL GUARD COMES LATE

WOULD FEDERAL ASSISTANCE

PREVENT THE LEVEE BREAK?

 

EQUIPMENT FOR HIGHWATER

TIED UP IN IRAQ

3000 MISSISSIPPI TROOPS

AND THEY AIN’T COMIN’ BACK

 

SOLDIER IN THE FLOOD

RIGHT HERE AT HOME

LOOTERS IN THE MUD

RIGHT HERE AT HOME

 

SOLDIER IN THE SAND ...

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

BRING ME THE HEAD OF ALFREDO GARCIA

BRING ME THE HEAD OF SENOR GARCIA

BRING ME HIS HEAD … I’LL GIVE YOU GOLD … I’LL GIVE YOU GOLD

GRAVE ROBBIN’ IN THE DESERT … DON’T COUNT ON PLEASANT WEATHER

GRAVE ROBBIN’ IN THE DESERT … SEEK THE TRUTH DOWN IN THAT HOLE

 

LAY HIS HEAD ON THE TABLE AND GET PAID

LAY HIS HEAD ON THE TABLE … WALK AWAY

 

BRING ME A VASE OF ALABASTER

STOLEN BY A LOOTER THOUGH IT WEIGHED 300 POUNDS

THE MINISTRY OF OIL IS STANDING PROUDLY

BUT THE MINISTRY OF CULTURE, BOYS, IS TUMBLING TO THE GROUND

 

LAY THAT VASE ON THE TABLE … WHAT’S YOUR COST?

LAY THAT VASE ON THE TABLE AND GET LOST

 

“IT’S NOT YOUR WORD THAT COUNTS … IT’S WHO YOU GIVE IT TO”

SAID THE REPORT OF THE RIFLE FAR AWAY

IT AIN’T THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT … IT’S THE CRAP THEY PUT HIM THROUGH

THE CASUALTIES INCREASE FROM DAY TO DAY

 

BRING ME THE HEAD OF THE NEWS REPORTER

SMUGGLING TREASURE INTO THE U.S.A.

PORTFOLIO OF AN ANCIENT PALACE

CALL INTERPOL AND DRAG THAT JERK AWAY

 

LAY THAT TREASURE ON THE TABLE AND CONFESS

LAY THAT TREASURE ON THE TABLE … FACE YOUR DEATH

 

“IT’S NOT YOUR WORD …

 

BRING ME THE HEAD OF SENOR GARCIA …

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

LEACHMAN'S GHOST

AMBUSHED ON THE HIGHWAY BY A HOLY MAN

PISSING OFF THESE PEOPLE LIKE ONLY ANGLOS CAN

LIBERATION MISSION: NOT TO OCCUPY

HARD TO TELL THE DIFFERENCE IF YOU BLINK AN EYE

 

MAYBE WHOLESALE SLAUGHTER IS THE ONLY PLAN

TO STOP THE RAIDING PARTIES IN THE DESERT SANDS

THE FIELDS OF GREEN ALFALFA ARE TURNING RED

THE VULTURES AND HYENAS WILL EAT THE DEAD

 

“KILLING’S SOMETHING I DO WELL”

AN UNMARKED GRAVE IS WHERE HE FELL

HARD TIMES – POST TO POST

HAUNTED BY LEACHMAN’S GHOST

 

HE WAS GREETED WARMLY BY THE NATIVE MEN

THEN MADE A FATAL ERROR AND TURNED HIS BACK ON THEM

THEY CALLED UP COLONEL LEACHMAN FOR THE LAST CAMPAIGN

THE CROSS OVER THE CRESCENT FILLED HIS FEVERED BRAIN

 

“KILLING’S SOMETHING I DO WELL”

AN UNMARKED GRAVE IS WHERE HE FELL

HARD TIMES – POST TO POST

HAUNTED BY LEACHMAN’S GHOST

 

EIGHTY SOME YEARS LATER MISSILES STREAK THE SKY

THE SENTRIES AND THE BLAST WALLS KEEP THE TRUTH OUTSIDE

THE RAVEN KEEPS THE SECRETS LIKE SHE ALWAYS DID

THE BOMBED-OUT WEDDING PARTY – SOMEBODY’S LONELY KID

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

DON'T HE LOOK GOOD?

HERE COME JOHNNY WITH HIS MANDARIN COLLAR FOLDED UP

CENTERED ON THE FRONT OF HIS SHIRT IS HIS RANK INSIGNIA

 

TABS AND DEVICES RIGHT NEXT TO A UNIT PATCH

TILTLED CARGO POCKETS: LIGHT GREEN, TAN, AND GRAY DROP THE BLACK

 

OH OH DON’T HE LOOK GOOD?

OH OH DON’T HE LOOK LIKE HE SHOULD?

 

ACU – ARMY COMBAT UNIFORM

A SOLIDER AT THE DOOR BROUGHT IT HOME BUT HER BOY HE IS GONE

 

OH OH DON’T HE LOOK GOOD …

 

PRACTICE MANUEVERS … SNOUTS WAGGIN’ IN THE WIND

BRILLIANT BLUE SKY … LET THE BLOOD BATH BEGIN

 

SHE FOLDED IT UP … NOW IT LIES BY THE BED ON THE FLOOR

SHE CAN’T SLEEP BUT STILL DREAMS THAT SOMEDAY HE’S GONNA WALK THROUGH THE DOOR

OH OH DON’T HE LOOK GOOD …

 

MOVIN’ AND GROOVIN’ AND ROCKIN’ DOWN THE TAMPA LINE

DANCING AND GRINNING … BABY’S GONNA HAVE A TIME

 

HERE COMES JOHNNY …

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

LOOK HER IN THE EYE

HE’S A REAL GOOD LOOKER IN THE EYE

 

HE’S A FEELIN’ FUNNY IN HIS MIND

 

SIDEWALK WATCHERS IN PROTEST POSTURES

I KISSED YOU BY THE BARRICADE

LOVE IN THE RUINS WHEN THE PARATROOPERS FLEW IN

WE’LL DIE BY THE PROMISES WE MADE

 

IT’S EASY NOT TO CRITICIZE

 

COPS WITH STUN GUNS AIMING AT THEIR LOVED ONES

REMIND ME WHO THE ENEMY IS HERE

CROWD’S DISPERSING BUT I’LL TELL YOU WHAT’S THE WORST THING

IT’S KNOWING THAT THEY’RE PREYING ON OUR FEARS

 

HE’S A REAL GOOD LOOKER IN THE EYE

HER BOY IS GONNA DIE … SO LOOK HER IN THE EYE

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

MAMA BAKE A PIE (by Tom. T. Hall)

 

People staring at me as they wheel me down the ramp toward my plane

The war is over for me, Ive forgotten everything except the pain

Thank you sir, and yes sir, it was worth it for the ol red, white and blue

And since I wont be walking I suppose I’ll save some money buying shoes

 

The bottle hidden underneath the blanket over my two battered legs

I can see the stewardess make over me and ask "were you afraid?"

I’ll say, "why no I’m superman, and couldn’t find the phone booth quite in time."

A GI gets a lot of laughs if he remembers all the funny lines

 

Mama bake a pie, daddy kill a chicken

Your son is coming home, 11:35 wednesday night

 

Mama will be crying and daddy’s gonna say "son, did they treat you good?"

My uncle will be drunk and hell say, "boy, they doing some real great things with wood."

The letter that she wrote me said good-bye, she couldnt wait and lots of luck

The bottle underneath the blanket feels just like an old friend to my touch

 

I know she’ll come and see me but I bet she never once looks at my legs

Naw, shell talk about the weather and the dress she wore the july 4th parade

Lord, I love her and I dont believe this bottles gonna get her off my mind

I see here in the paper, where they say the war is just a waste of time

 

Tom T Hall, 1970

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

THE KIND MERCHANT

THERE’S NO REASON OR RHYME … THEY’VE BEEN LOST OVER TIME

AND HIS DREAMS HAVE BEEN BLOWN BY THE WIND

AND HE HOPES AND HE PRAYS THAT ONE DAY HE’LL BE SAVED

FROM THE TROUBLE HE FINDS HIMSELF IN

 

HE FORGETS AND FORGIVES BUT SOMEHOW HE STILL LIVES

IN A LAND THAT’S BEEN BATTERED ‘N’ TORN

AND HE PUSHES AND SHOVES AND RELINQUISHES LOVE

IT’S A SHAME BUT IT’S HOW HE WAS BORN

 

GONE FOR GOOD … AND NOT COMIN’ BACK

THE KIND MERCHANT CASTS A WIDE NET

HE SHIMMIES AND SHAKES … ATTENDS A DEAD SOLDIER’S WAKE

HE’S OUT THERE … WE JUST AIN’T FOUND HIM YET

 

HE’S FOUND AND HE’S LOST AT AN UNCERTAIN COST

AND THE TRUTH JUST WITHERS AWAY

THE KIND MERCHANT STANDS WITH HIS HEAD IN HIS HAND

AND WONDERS: WHAT WOULD JOHN LENNON SAY?

 

GONE FOR GOOD … AND NOT COMIN’ BACK

THE KIND MERCHANT CASTS A WIDE NET

HE SHIMMIES AND SHAKES … ATTENDS A DEAD SOLDIER’S WAKE

HE’S OUT THERE … WE JUST AIN’T FOUND HIM YET

 

THERE’S NO REASON OR RHYME … THEY’VE BEEN LOST OVER TIME

AND HIS DREAMS HAVE BEEN BLOWN BY THE WIND

AND HE HOPES AND HE PRAYS THAT ONE DAY HE’LL BE SAVED

FROM THE TROUBLE HE FINDS HIMSELF IN

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

MESOPOTAMIA 1917 (by Rudyard Kipling)

 

THEY shall not return to us, the resolute, the young

The eager and whole-hearted whom we gave:

But the men who left them thriftily to die in their own dung,

Shall they come with years and honour to the grave?

 

They shall not return to us, the strong men coldly slain

In sight of help denied from day to day:

But the men who edged their agonies and chide them in their pain,

Are they too strong and wise to put away?

 

Our dead shall not return to us while Day and Night divide—

Never while the bars of sunset hold.

But the idle-minded overlings who quibbled while they died,

Shall they thrust for high employments as of old?

 

Shall we only threaten and be angry for an hour?

When the storm is ended shall we find

How softly but how swiftly they have sidled back to power

By the favour and contrivance of their kind?

 

Even while they soothe us, while they promise large amends,

Even while they make a show of fear,

Do they call upon their debtors, and take council with their friends,

To confirm and re-establish each career?

 

Their lives cannot repay us—their death could not undo—

The shame that they have laid upon our race.

But the slothfulness that wasted and the arrogance that slew,

Shall we leave it unabated in its place?

 

(by Rudyard Kipling)

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

MULLOY 2006

MULLOY ON A TWO WEEK BENDER

HIS BOY’S GONE TO THE HOLY LAND

LEXI STAYED HOME LIKE YOU TOLD HER

LISTENS TO THE CAR DOOR SLAM

 

WEEK ONE: UP IN THE MOUNTAINS

LISTENING FOR THE ANCIENT SOUNDS

WEEK TWO: AN INSTANT MESSAGE

HIS BOY’S SAFE ON THE HOLY GROUND

 

ONE DAY LOVE WILL FIND YOU

ONE DAY YOU’LL HAVE A HOME

TOUGH TIMES YOU’LL PUT BEHIND YOU

THE WORLD WAITS, MAN, YOU’RE NOT ALONE … ALL ALONE

 

HARD TO WATCH THE NEIGHBORS CHILDREN

HARD TO WATCH THE EVENING NEWS

TRYING TO HELP HIM BUT HE’S NOWHERE NEAR ME

TRYING HARD NOT TO BLOW A FUSE

 

ONE DAY LOVE WILL FIND YOU

ONE DAY YOU’LL HAVE A HOME

TOUGH TIMES YOU’LL PUT BEHIND YOU

THE WORLD WAITS, MAN, YOU’RE NOT ALONE … ALL ALONE

 

NO WORD FOR SEVERAL WEEKS NOW

KNOCK KNOCK SOLDIER’S AT MY DOOR

BUMPER STICKER ON THE NEIGHBOR’S PICKUP:

“WHAT THE HELL ARE WE FIGHTING FOR?”

 

I TOLD YOU NOT TO JOIN THAT ARMY

I TOLD YOU IT’D BE A DRAG

ONLY TAKES ONE TOUR OF DUTY

TO SEND YOU HOME IN A BODY BAG

 

ONE DAY LOVE WILL FIND YOU

ONE DAY YOU’LL HAVE A HOME

TOUGH TIMES YOU’LL PUT BEHIND YOU

THE WORLD WAITS, MAN, YOU’RE NOT ALONE … ALL ALONE

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

YO HO HO (by Terry Allen)

I’m sailin’ out on the ocean, baby

Sailin’ on a deep blue sea

Yeah, sailin’ out on the ocean, baby

Sailin’ on a deep blue sea

Just tryin’ to keep my ship from burnin’

Burnin’ out from under me

 

Yo Ho Ho

Yo Ho Ho

 

Yeah, something’s made me crazy, baby

Something’s maybe made you crazy too

Ah, something’s made me crazy, baby

Something maybe made you crazy too

I’m just sailin’ out on the ocean, baby

Tryin’ to find America with you

 

Yo Ho Ho

Yo Ho Ho

Here we go

Yo Ho Ho

 

I’m trying to find America with you

I’m trying to find America with you

Just tryin’ to find America with you

 

Terry Allen, 1976

 

* * * * * * * * * *

‚Äč

All lyrics by Jon Houlon, Hillside Blue Music, 2007 (except where noted)

MESOPOTAMIA BLUES