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The
West Bound For Somewhere Up with the rising sun, low soft and clear, a voice in my ear Told me this day was the one Walked down to First and Main, crossing the tracks, without one look back I hopped on a slow moving train Won't miss the cold cold rain, goodbye to the shacks, those factory stacks I'll never head that way again I can't say I have a plan, but I do indeed, have all that I'll need My heart, my hopes, my hands This train's bound for somewhere, and somewhere is better than where I've been They say every dog has its day, and sometimes the losers win Out where the stars still shine, birds in the trees, a song on the breeze Wherever these tracks have in mind This train's bound for somewhere, and somewhere is better than where I've been They say every dog has its day, and sometimes the losers win.
The Four Horsemen Rode out at dawn, into a rising sun, Jackson and Murdoch, Champion and Dunn Four side by side, not a word as they ride, but they share hate in their hearts and fire in their eyes Spent four long years in Fort Stockton prison A long time for four lawless men, a long time to think of revenge And so they ride, like devils on the wind, out for the Marshall who brought them in Clouds fill the sky, while they race side by side, and as the day moves along the four horsemen ride Whoa... Rode into town, raising up a shout, calling for the Marshall, the Marshall walks out His voice clear and strong, the Marshall says "don't take this wrong, but I'd just like to know, what took you boys so long?" Hands go to guns, the shooting's begun And smoke fills the air in the street, it all happens too fast to see But when it clears, the Marshall stands alone, holsters his weapon, heads back for home There side by side, in the dirt where they lied, well people say that's the way the four horsemen died. Whoa...
Branson Bridge Despite predictions, the prayers and all the tears, it hadn't rained a drop in three long years. While farms went under, while dust blew down the wells. My thoughts were all on something else. A small town boy, I yearned for somewhere new. And so the city called, as cities do. Me and my Sarah we would set out late one night - then drive to dawn, start our new life. One burning day in June, I drove to Branson bridge. I parked and tossed a coin and made a wish. A wish that Sarah would stay true to our plans, ride away with me, leave that dying land. Before I drove away, I took a look around. The empty fields, the sunburnt ground. Just then a gust of wind blew dust across the bridge. I tossed another coin, made another wish. Let it rain, oh dear God, let it rain.Then rain some more, for three days let it pour. Sweet precious rain. The day we planned to leave had finally rolled around. I drove my truck out to the edge of town. I sat there waiting, while the hours slipped on by. The night birds sang. The coyotes cried. As night gave way to dawn, the breeze began to blow. I knew my Sarah wasn't gonna show. And as I drove away, the air felt kind of cold...I thought I heard thunder roll. Then it came, oh dear God how it rained. Those folks still say, it rained for three straight days. Sweet precious rain! I Run No More Here on this ridge, watching the pass below. Been here since dawn, guns close at hand. I've heard it said that all things must finally end, so this is where I make my stand. I don't recall just how this all began. Running has blurred the why and the when. Something went wrong, now I'm a wanted man. But time has come, this tale must end...oh... Out of Cheyenne, clear down to Santa Fe. Word’s gotten 'round, the posse has grown. Ten hell-bent men hoping to track me down. Here on this ridge, I stand alone. Warmed by the sun, waiting for what will come. Dead or alive, sought by the law Life on the run for so many yesterdays. As of today, I run no more. As of today, I run no more.
Maybe San Antone Maybe San Antone, maybe west to Yuma, maybe north to Cheyenne, maybe down to Monterrey Maybe New Orleans, maybe Carson City, maybe out to the Badlands or south to Santa Fe So here we stand, me and Old Dan, turn left or turn right Sometimes you just have to toss the dice Maybe Cimarron, maybe Amarillo, maybe north to Durango when summer rolls around Maybe play some cards, win a little money, maybe work till the fall on a ranch outside of town But I try not to work very hard, and I'm happy to say I done real good so far Still I don't want for nothing at all, I got the stars in the sky, and the coyotes still call Well I hear what folks call me sometimes, a saddle tramp drifter who ain't worth a dime But I think of myself like the breeze, I got places to go, and I go when I please Maybe Abilene, maybe up to Jackson, maybe out to El Paso or east to Baton Rouge Maybe Gila Bend, maybe north to Blackfoot, maybe down to La Mesa or out to Santa Cruz So here we stand, me and Old Dan, turn left or turn right Sometimes you just have to toss the dice
Notes On A Journey Through The Desert At Night Late night on the road. All alone hauling a load. Full moon, clouds roll in. Call of a coyote on the desert wind. Come sun up life gets hard ... out here where water is God. A hundred miles since that border town. Not a light, not a soul around. Empty world on this day of the dead, shadow of an eagle where the cliffs turn red. Dead air, now the radio's gone. Woo oh, keep rollin' on. Time and love. Someone said "nothin' cures like time and love". Home sweet home, where my girl waits for me, that's where I belong. Shine a light, guide this boy home. Rubber on road, the endless hum. Tick, tick, tick like a brush on drum.Crest the hill, shift the gears. Raindrops fall like angel's tears. Come tomorrow I'll be safe and sound. Just keep coverin' ground. Dawn's hangin' by a thread. I start to wonder if the spare is dead. Vague shapes in the desert haze, I drop my eyes to the fuel guage - another hour I'll be driving on fumes. Wooo, oh I'm racing the moon.
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The
East Ride That Train Why I ride, Ha ! I can't say, maybe it's the Clickety, clickety, clackety song the iron plays, or the fading towns behind me and the promise of a new life found along the way. Westward ho Hey!– that's what they say Maybe Amarillo, maybe San Antone or Santa Fe. When that whistle starts a blowing I know it's time for goin', rollin' on. Yeah, I'm gonna ride that train again Yeah, I'm gonna ride that train again Gonna Take the Line that never ends – yeah, I'm gonna ride that train again. In the wind, ha! It's all I know Rollin' over hills, over plains, over borders there I go And a comfort does surround me, like a fortune all around me when we roll Yeah, I'm gonna ride that train again Yeah, I'm gonna ride that train again Gonna Take the Line that never ends – yeah, I'm gonna ride that train again. Woman don't cha cry, Ha! Time has come It's better for us both if I just collect my things and run. Where the world will never find me, I don't need a star to guide me, these tracks are right beside me all the way. Yeah, I'm gonna ride that train again Yeah, I'm gonna ride that train again Gonna Take the Line that never ends – yeah, I'm gonna ride that train again.
Sarah Carey To the west with his dream, to his bride-to-be, Youngman Connor rode. Meant to marry, Sarah Carey. And he rode straight and true, to the Cumberland, for love it drove him on. Momma’s Scripture, portrait of his sister, Daddy’s rifle- his Kentucky Long. No law, no justice on the wilderness side – came gunman plundering Poor Sarah watched and wept as her daddy died, the pistol thundering. Almost there, with a prayer as the sun set, and the rain began to fall. Darlin’ Sarah, so much I long to share, count the blessings in this new frontier Nowhere to hide, door open wideand she ran – one witness to her fate. Out in the darkness, in the cold and the rain . . .stood Youngman at the gate. It all came down to single round, Youngman trembled, the rifle in his hands Lord please find me, don’t let this darkness blind me, pray deliver, in my time of need. Guide me through, let my shot ring true, as it’s written, an eye for an eye. Chain lighting lit the sky, a glorious site, and Youngman found his man Long Rifle roared with vengeance into the night and then to Sarah he ran…he ran To the west, with his dream to his bride-to-be, Youngman Connor rode There he married Sarah Carey .
Santa Fe I'm missing my Santa Fe, and the world I knew in a better day. My heart aches for Santa Fe, and I'm going home, yes I'm going home. They said we were almost through, we'd be shipping out in a week or two. I knelt by my tent and prayed for my Western World . . . and my Western Ways. There, where the setting sun lays carpets of gold. Where the Rio Grande, runs straight through my soul. Santa Fe, Santa Fe. I carried the picture close, a reminder here of what matters most - the photo of you and me on that final day, down in Santa Fe. I stared at the city fires and the darkened smoke from the temple spires. I fell as the shot rang out, and I slipped away, to my Santa Fe. There, where the setting sun lays carpets of gold. Where the Rio Grande, runs straight through my soul. Santa Fe, Santa Fe, Santa Fe. I'm walking in Santa Fe, in the world I know and the place I'll stay. My heart rests in Santa Fe, now I'm home, yes I'm home.
Winter Times Three A blanket of blue for her love she wove, a gift for his going away. A farmer he was but the war had come and they called him "to soldier" that day. Choices were few - run away, join the Gray, join the Blue. The Union Band played as they marched that day and many farewells could be heard "A blanket my love, a reminder of the warmth and the woman that waits" "Woman abide, when this ends I'll return to your side". He'll return, He'll return someday. Maybe Summer, oh maybe Winter … he'll find a way. He'll find a way. Winter times three since he went away and Winter times three did she wait The child in her arms with his father's name and the dream of the day they would meet, all that remained and the promise to find her again. He'll return, He'll return someday. Maybe Summer, child maybe Winter "he'll find a way. He'll find a way". A rider appeared on an Autumn morn and slowly he came into view, Tattered and torn such a sight forlorn then he smiled and she suddenly knew. "promise kept true" - he was wrapped in a blanket of blue.
Louisiana Rows and rows of weeping willow, I'm lying on my pillow, daydreaming Summer days C'est savoir faire, blue-eyed boys with golden hair in my daydream. I know my work has gone undone, I know the fields have been left behind. and oh Louisiana, just killing time. The hammock gently sways, somewhere the music plays such a sweet thing. Beneath the shady trees, my baby waits for me, in my daydream. Another day slides by, a small delay in this working life , oh Louisiana, God's blessed your skies. A whisper on the breeze, so softly calls to me . . . in my daydream. Don't leave me, lover stay. Don't waste this precious day or this sweet dream. I know my work has gone undone, I know the fields have been left behind and oh Louisiana, just killing time. oh Louisiana, just killing time. Under Blue, Blue Moon Somethin's broken in this tired town, the rain keeps fallin' and the sun stays down, the crop is thin, and the lights grow dim under blue, blue moon. Main and Maple - there's a single store, just the basics no one needin' more. The faded "Welcome" in the window glows under blue, blue moon. This old town had its day. This old town fades away beneath a blanket blue and gray. Cotton King in all the glory days, the bitter harvest with its toll to pay. All left abandoned and then set ablaze under blue, blue moon. Gone the Manor, gone the servants too - the land forsaken by the chosen few. Those remaining learned that nothing grew under blue, blue moon. This old town had its day. This old town fades away beneath a blanket blue and gray. Americana with a twist of fate, the rusted hinges on the busted gates, two battered pickups on a moonlight date under blue, blue moon. Quarter mile from county line, beyond the highway and mobile sign, a couple stranded with the ghosts of time, under blue blue moon. This old town had its day. This old town fades away, this old town had its day . . . |