100 Songs Read online

  And you walked a rugged mile

  Your children are so hungry

  That they don’t know how to smile

  Your baby’s eyes look crazy

  They’re a-tuggin’ at your sleeve

  Your baby’s eyes look crazy

  They’re a-tuggin’ at your sleeve

  You walk the floor and wonder why

  With every breath you breathe

  The rats have got your flour

  Bad blood it got your mare

  The rats have got your flour

  Bad blood it got your mare

  If there’s anyone that knows

  Is there anyone that cares?

  You prayed to the Lord above

  Oh please send you a friend

  You prayed to the Lord above

  Oh please send you a friend

  Your empty pockets tell yuh

  That you ain’t a-got no friend

  Your babies are crying louder

  It’s pounding on your brain

  Your babies are crying louder now

  It’s pounding on your brain

  Your wife’s screams are stabbin’ you

  Like the dirty drivin’ rain

  Your grass it is turning black

  There’s no water in your well

  Your grass is turning black

  There’s no water in your well

  You spent your last lone dollar

  On seven shotgun shells

  Way out in the wilderness

  A cold coyote calls

  Way out in the wilderness

  A cold coyote calls

  Your eyes fix on the shotgun

  That’s hangin’ on the wall

  Your brain is a-bleedin’

  And your legs can’t seem to stand

  Your brain is a-bleedin’

  And your legs can’t seem to stand

  Your eyes fix on the shotgun

  That you’re holdin’ in your hand

  There’s seven breezes a-blowin’

  All around the cabin door

  There’s seven breezes a-blowin’

  All around the cabin door

  Seven shots ring out

  Like the ocean’s pounding roar

  There’s seven people dead

  On a South Dakota farm

  There’s seven people dead

  On a South Dakota farm

  Somewhere in the distance

  There’s seven new people born

  ONE TOO MANY MORNINGS

  Down the street the dogs are barkin’

  And the day is a-gettin’ dark

  As the night comes in a-fallin’

  The dogs’ll lose their bark

  An’ the silent night will shatter

  From the sounds inside my mind

  For I’m one too many mornings

  And a thousand miles behind

  From the crossroads of my doorstep

  My eyes they start to fade

  As I turn my head back to the room

  Where my love and I have laid

  An’ I gaze back to the street

  The sidewalk and the sign

  And I’m one too many mornings

  An’ a thousand miles behind

  It’s a restless hungry feeling

  That don’t mean no one no good

  When ev’rything I’m a-sayin’

  You can say it just as good

  You’re right from your side

  I’m right from mine

  We’re both just one too many mornings

  An’ a thousand miles behind

  ONLY A PAWN IN THEIR GAME

  A bullet from the back of a bush took Medgar Evers’ blood

  A finger fired the trigger to his name

  A handle hid out in the dark

  A hand set the spark

  Two eyes took the aim

  Behind a man’s brain

  But he can’t be blamed

  He’s only a pawn in their game

  A South politician preaches to the poor white man

  “You got more than the blacks, don’t complain

  You’re better than them, you been born with white skin,” they explain

  And the Negro’s name

  Is used it is plain

  For the politician’s gain

  As he rises to fame

  And the poor white remains

  On the caboose of the train

  But it ain’t him to blame

  He’s only a pawn in their game

  The deputy sheriffs, the soldiers, the governors get paid

  And the marshals and cops get the same

  But the poor white man’s used in the hands of them all like a tool

  He’s taught in his school

  From the start by the rule

  That the laws are with him

  To protect his white skin

  To keep up his hate

  So he never thinks straight

  ’Bout the shape that he’s in

  But it ain’t him to blame

  He’s only a pawn in their game

  From the poverty shacks, he looks from the cracks to the tracks

  And the hoofbeats pound in his brain

  And he’s taught how to walk in a pack

  Shoot in the back

  With his fist in a clinch

  To hang and to lynch

  To hide ’neath the hood

  To kill with no pain

  Like a dog on a chain

  He ain’t got no name

  But it ain’t him to blame

  He’s only a pawn in their game

  Today, Medgar Evers was buried from the bullet he caught

  They lowered him down as a king

  But when the shadowy sun sets on the one

  That fired the gun

  He’ll see by his grave

  On the stone that remains

  Carved next to his name

  His epitaph plain:

  Only a pawn in their game

  BOOTS OF SPANISH LEATHER

  Oh, I’m sailin’ away my own true love

  I’m sailin’ away in the morning

  Is there something I can send you from across the sea

  From the place that I’ll be landing?

  No, there’s nothin’ you can send me, my own true love

  There’s nothin’ I wish to be ownin’

  Just carry yourself back to me unspoiled

  From across that lonesome ocean

  Oh, but I just thought you might want something fine

  Made of silver or of golden

  Either from the mountains of Madrid

  Or from the coast of Barcelona

  Oh, but if I had the stars from the darkest night

  And the diamonds from the deepest ocean

  I’d forsake them all for your sweet kiss

  For that’s all I’m wishin’ to be ownin’

  That I might be gone a long time

  And it’s only that I’m askin’

  Is there something I can send you to remember me by

  To make your time more easy passin’

  Oh, how can, how can you ask me again

  It only brings me sorrow

  The same thing I want from you today

  I would want again tomorrow

  I got a letter on a lonesome day

  It was from her ship a-sailin’

  Saying I don’t know when I’ll be comin’ back again

  It depends on how I’m a-feelin’

  Well, if you, my love, must think that-a-way

  I’m sure your mind is roamin’

  I’m sure your heart is not with me

  But with the country to where you’re goin’

  So take heed, take heed of the western wind

  Take heed of the stormy weather

  And yes, there’s something you can send back to me

  Spanish boots of Spanish leather

  THE LONESOME DEATH OF HATTIE CARROLL

  William Z
anzinger killed poor Hattie Carroll

  With a cane that he twirled around his diamond ring finger

  At a Baltimore hotel society gath’rin’

  And the cops were called in and his weapon took from him

  As they rode him in custody down to the station

  And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murder

  But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears

  Take the rag away from your face

  Now ain’t the time for your tears

  William Zanzinger, who at twenty-four years

  Owns a tobacco farm of six hundred acres

  With rich wealthy parents who provide and protect him

  And high office relations in the politics of Maryland

  Reacted to his deed with a shrug of his shoulders

  And swear words and sneering, and his tongue it was snarling

  In a matter of minutes on bail was out walking

  But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears

  Take the rag away from your face

  Now ain’t the time for your tears

  Hattie Carroll was a maid of the kitchen

  She was fifty-one years old and gave birth to ten children

  Who carried the dishes and took out the garbage

  And never sat once at the head of the table

  And didn’t even talk to the people at the table

  Who just cleaned up all the food from the table

  And emptied the ashtrays on a whole other level

  Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane

  That sailed through the air and came down through the room

  Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle

  And she never done nothing to William Zanzinger

  But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears

  Take the rag away from your face

  Now ain’t the time for your tears

  In the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gavel

  To show that all’s equal and that the courts are on the level

  And that the strings in the books ain’t pulled and persuaded

  And that even the nobles get properly handled

  Once that the cops have chased after and caught ’em

  And that the ladder of law has no top and no bottom

  Stared at the person who killed for no reason

  Who just happened to be feelin’ that way without warnin’

  And he spoke through his cloak, most deep and distinguished

  And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance

  William Zanzinger with a six-month sentence

  Oh, but you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears

  Bury the rag deep in your face

  For now’s the time for your tears

  LAY DOWN YOUR WEARY TUNE

  Lay down your weary tune, lay down

  Lay down the song you strum

  And rest yourself ’neath the strength of strings

  No voice can hope to hum

  Struck by the sounds before the sun

  I knew the night had gone

  The morning breeze like a bugle blew

  Against the drums of dawn

  Lay down your weary tune, lay down

  Lay down the song you strum

  And rest yourself ’neath the strength of strings

  No voice can hope to hum

  The ocean wild like an organ played

  The seaweed’s wove its strands

  The crashin’ waves like cymbals clashed

  Against the rocks and sands

  Lay down your weary tune, lay down

  Lay down the song you strum

  And rest yourself ’neath the strength of strings

  No voice can hope to hum

  I stood unwound beneath the skies

  And clouds unbound by laws

  The cryin’ rain like a trumpet sang

  And asked for no applause

  Lay down your weary tune, lay down

  Lay down the song you strum

  And rest yourself ’neath the strength of strings

  No voice can hope to hum

  The last of leaves fell from the trees

  And clung to a new love’s breast

  The branches bare like a banjo played

  To the winds that listened best

  I gazed down in the river’s mirror

  And watched its winding strum

  The water smooth ran like a hymn

  And like a harp did hum

  Lay down your weary tune, lay down

  Lay down the song you strum

  And rest yourself ’neath the strength of strings

  No voice can hope to hum

  CHIMES OF FREEDOM

  Far between sundown’s finish an’ midnight’s broken toll

  We ducked inside the doorway, thunder crashing

  As majestic bells of bolts struck shadows in the sounds

  Seeming to be the chimes of freedom flashing

  Flashing for the warriors whose strength is not to fight

  Flashing for the refugees on the unarmed road of flight

  An’ for each an’ ev’ry underdog soldier in the night

  An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing

  In the city’s melted furnace, unexpectedly we watched

  With faces hidden while the walls were tightening

  As the echo of the wedding bells before the blowin’ rain

  Dissolved into the bells of the lightning

  Tolling for the rebel, tolling for the rake

  Tolling for the luckless, the abandoned an’ forsaked

  Tolling for the outcast, burnin’ constantly at stake

  An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing

  Through the mad mystic hammering of the wild ripping hail

  The sky cracked its poems in naked wonder

  That the clinging of the church bells blew far into the breeze

  Leaving only bells of lightning and its thunder

  Striking for the gentle, striking for the kind

  Striking for the guardians and protectors of the mind

  An’ the unpawned painter behind beyond his rightful time

  An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing

  Through the wild cathedral evening the rain unraveled tales

  For the disrobed faceless forms of no position

  Tolling for the tongues with no place to bring their thoughts

  All down in taken-for-granted situations

  Tolling for the deaf an’ blind, tolling for the mute

  Tolling for the mistreated, mateless mother, the mistitled prostitute

  For the misdemeanor outlaw, chased an’ cheated by pursuit

  An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing

  Even though a cloud’s white curtain in a far-off corner flashed

  An’ the hypnotic splattered mist was slowly lifting

  Electric light still struck like arrows, fired but for the ones

  Condemned to drift or else be kept from drifting

  Tolling for the searching ones, on their speechless, seeking trail

  For the lonesome-hearted lovers with too personal a tale

  An’ for each unharmful, gentle soul misplaced inside a jail

  An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing

  Starry-eyed an’ laughing as I recall when we were caught

  Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended

  As we listened one last time an’ we watched with one last look

  Spellbound an’ swallowed ’til the tolling ended

  Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed

  For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones an’ worse

  An’ for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe

  An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing

  MOTORPSYCHO NIGHTMARE

  I pounded on a fa
rmhouse

  Lookin’ for a place to stay

  I was mighty, mighty tired

  I had come a long, long way

  I said, “Hey, hey, in there

  Is there anybody home?”

  I was standin’ on the steps

  Feelin’ most alone

  Well, out comes a farmer

  He must have thought that I was nuts

  He immediately looked at me

  And stuck a gun into my guts

  I fell down

  To my bended knees

  Saying, “I dig farmers

  Don’t shoot me, please!”

  He cocked his rifle

  And began to shout

  “You’re that travelin’ salesman

  That I have heard about”

  I said, “No! No! No!

  I’m a doctor and it’s true

  I’m a clean-cut kid

  And I been to college, too”

  Then in comes his daughter

  Whose name was Rita

  She looked like she stepped out of

  La Dolce Vita

  I immediately tried to cool it

  With her dad

  And told him what a

  Nice, pretty farm he had

  He said, “What do doctors

  Know about farms, pray tell?”

  I said, “I was born

  At the bottom of a wishing well”

  Well, by the dirt ’neath my nails

  I guess he knew I wouldn’t lie

  “I guess you’re tired”

  He said, kinda sly

  I said, “Yes, ten thousand miles

  Today I drove”

  He said, “I got a bed for you

  Underneath the stove

  Just one condition

  And you go to sleep right now

  That you don’t touch my daughter

  And in the morning, milk the cow”

  I was sleepin’ like a rat

  When I heard something jerkin’

  There stood Rita

  Lookin’ just like Tony Perkins

  She said, “Would you like to take a shower?

  I’ll show you up to the door”

  I said, “Oh, no! no!

  I’ve been through this before”

  I knew I had to split

  But I didn’t know how

  When she said

  “Would you like to take that shower, now?”

  Well, I couldn’t leave

  Unless the old man chased me out

  ’Cause I’d already promised

  That I’d milk his cows

  I had to say something

  To strike him very weird

  So I yelled out

  “I like Fidel Castro and his beard”

  Rita looked offended

  But she got out of the way

  As he came charging down the stairs