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JOHN DENVER lyrics - Rhymes And Reasons

My Old Man

Original and similar lyrics
(Walker) My old man had a rounder's soul, he'd hear an old freight train, then he'd have to go. Said he'd been blessed with the gypsy bone, that's the reason they guessed he'd been cursed to roam. Came into town back before the war, didn't even know what it was he was looking for. He carried a tattered bag for his violin, it was full of lots of songs and places that he'd been. He talked real easy, had a smiling way to pass along to you when his fiddle played. Making people drop their cares and woes to hum out loud those tunes that his fiddle bowed. Till the people there began to join that sound, and everyone in town was laughing, singing, dancing round. Like the fiddler's tune was all they heard that night, as if some dream said, 'All the world is right,' His fiddler's eye caught one beauty there. She had that rolling, flowing, golden kind of hair. He played for her as if she danced alone, he played his favorite songs, ones he called his own. He played until she was the last to go, stopped and packed his case, said he'd take her home. All the nights that passed a child was born. All the years that passed, love would keep them warm. All their lives they'd share a dream come true, all because she danced so well to his fiddle tune. My old man had a rounder's soul, he'd hear an old freight train, then he'd have to go. All that I recall he said when I was so young was no one else could really sing those songs he sung.

The Load-Out

JACKSON BROWNE "Running On Empty"
(Jackson Browne & Bryan Garofalo) Now the seats are all empty Let the roadies take the stage Pack it up and tear it down They're the first to come and last to leave Working for that minimum wage They'll set it up in another town Tonight the people were so fine They waited there in line And when they got up on their feet they made the show And that was sweet... But I can hear the sound Of slamming doors and folding chairs And that's a sound they'll never know Now roll them cases out and lift them amps Haul them trusses down and get'em up them ramps 'Cause when it comes to moving me You guys are the champs But when that last guitar's been packed away You know that I still want to play So just make sure you got it all set to go Before you come for my piano But the band's on the bus And they're waiting to go We've got to drive all night and do a show in Chicago or Detroit, I don't know We do so many shows in a row And these towns all look the same We just pass the time in our hotel rooms And wander 'round backstage Till those lights come up and we hear that crowd And we remember why we came Now we got country and western on the bus R and B, we got disco in eight tracks and cassettes in stereo We've got rural scenes & magazines We've got truckers on the CB We've got Richard Pryor on the video We got time to think of the ones we love While the miles roll away But the only time that seems too short Is the time that we get to play People you've got the power over what we do You can sit there and wait Or you can pull us through Come along, sing the song You know you can't go wrong 'Cause when that morning sun comes beating down You're going to wake up in your town But we'll be scheduled to appear A thousand miles away from here

Got No Soul

Cop Shoot Cop
Late for work again today Somebody's lying down on the job again Will you people please stop jumping under my train Ladies and gentlemen, there will be a slight delay While we hose the blood away (And the clock keeps ticking...) So I spent my evening wishing I was never born Drinking toasts to that hood with the hooves and the horns Because the roaches won't do the laundry no more And the rats refuse to fix the holes in the floor Water comes through the ceiling... I asked a pig if he wanted to dance He says is that a 45 in your pants Or are you just happy to see me? (rim shot) I said, All I need is a distraction Or maybe a sense of satisfaction Perhaps a pair of pliers to rip off these blinders Because my peripheral vision is dying It ain't as if I ain't trying I'm a rat in a maze of my own devising And is that a call to arms... Is that a call to arms I hear rising? Is that a call to arms I hear rising out of that concrete hole? Yer war on drugs got no soul, yer hired thugs got no soul. You hippy trash got no soul. Yer yuppie cash got no soul. Yer video clips, yer beauty tips, remote control. It's a big black hole. Got no soul. Got no soul. And the clock's clicking off like the timer on some big neutron switch Except that there's just one hitch: you gotta strike it rich Before the shit comes down So they're out there panhandling for gold Prospecting in the street, sifting garbage in the gutter Digging in the tenements, looking for a vein Trying to find that big score: the mother lode And everything's a wannabe -- the wicked and the weak, The victors and the victimized, the economists and the economized My T.V. mind-set is shattered (sh'dooby) No guts, no glory, no balls -- whatever you wanna call it -- There ain't nothing real there at all (and I don't feel whole) Yeah, yer mobile phone got no soul. Yer rolling stone got no soul. Yer music scene got no soul. Yer answering machine got no soul. Yer microwave, yer toilet slave. You corporate swine. Yer bullshit line. Hey you on the payroll! Hey you on the J Train! Hey you on the T.V. News! Hey you in the 3-piece suit! You got no soul. I got no soul. Got no soul

Stalin Malone

I'm going to make you even fear the dream you dream So don't even think about it don't make a wish You think that I don't see you as you trawl those young weak fish Hooked on those poor wonders, 'til they want you alone Though they can't tell a cuckoo-clock from the squeals of saxophones That's when they'll fear my name Stalin Malone I'm telling you the day will come when this man gets what he merits Though people still wear animal skins to ward off evil spirits Only wife-swapping and witchcraft woke the dormitory town 'Til horse's heads up in the trees came dripping down Yes, horse's heads up hung in the trees after the bird had flown Did you wonder of my whereabouts as the barrack-room was blown Did anybody call my name? Stalin Malone In a room called creation, where you all obey my laws Where Seconal is gravity and pain is like applause You think that this phenomenon is some coincidence But I've got people everywhere, you're under my surveillance, in the pocket of my pants Okay, she left me, but I'll soon get over that Falling out of the Blood Tub and rolling, on my back Waking up to the one o'clock gun with a Punch and Judy bird Reaching out for a gelignite beer that fills me up with murder To overhear forbidden songs her lover must have known Between the pity and advice... There's no one here to help you now, but speak after the tone Leave for me a message of hope Stalin Malone Now the church door is a roller-shutter with padlocks and keys Just like all of the other dispensaries The saloon is like a casket, stained wood and human dust Stale with conversation that hangs on your clothes like smoke The wooden clock said she would dance dressed only in flower As the jazz band drowns the hysterical bird that it spits out on the hour I'd drop out of sight and disappear, turn up in another town, but somehow I just can't seem to put it down, put it down, put it down I just want to hold her now in that I'm not alone but do I have to see her fall into his arms before I can atone.. Get my jacket on, get my story straight, I'm leaving on my own

Devil Went Down To Georgia

The Devil went down to Georgia, he was looking for a soul to steal He was in a bind, cause he was way behind And he was willing to make a deal Well he come across a young man sawing on a fiddle and he played it hot The Devil jumped up on a hickory stump And said Boy, let me tell you what In case you didn't know it, I'm a fiddle player too And if you care to make a dare I'll make a bet with you Now you play pretty good fiddle, son but give the Devil his due I'll bet a fiddle of gold against your soul Cause I think I'm better than you Well the boy said My name's Johnny, and it might be a sin But I'll take your bet you're gonna regret Cause I'm the best there's ever been Johnny rosin up your bow and play your fiddle hard Cause hell's broke loose in Georgia And the Devil deals the cards And if you win you'll get this shiny fiddle made of gold But if you lose the Devil gets your soul The Devil opened up his case, and said, I'll start this show And fire flew from his finger tips as he rosined up his bow When he pulled that bow across the strings, it made an evil hiss And a band of demons joined in, it sounded just like this When the Devil finished, Johnny said, Well you're pretty good old son But just sit down in that chair right there and let me show you how it's done He played Fire on the Mountain, run, boys, run The Devil's in the house with the rising sun, Chicken in the breadpan picking out dough, Granny does your dog bite, No, child, no The Devil bowed his head because he knew that he'd been beat And he laid that golden fiddle on the ground at Johnny's feet And Johnny said, Devil, come on back if you ever want to try again But I told you once, you son of a bitch, I'm the best there's ever been! He played Fire on the Mountain, run, boys, run The Devil's in the house with the rising sun Chicken in the breadpan picking out dough Granny does your dog bite, No, child, no

All The Money In The World

BLACK LAB "Your Body Above Me"
To dance all night the break of day With a caller and a holler do-si-do We knew uncle Pen was ready to go Early in the evening about sundown High on the hill and above the town Uncle Pen played the fiddle, Lord how it ring You could hear it talk, you could hear it sing Well he played another tune called soldier's joy And played the one called the Boston Boy First of all was Jenny Lynn For me that's where the fiddle begins I'll never forget that mournful day When uncle pen was called away He hung his fiddle and hang up his bow He knew it was time for him to go

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