Written around 1975 after seeing a Humane Society film on stray dogs Stray dog, stray dog, Let me take you home where it’s warm; Stray dog, stray dog, Come on in from the storm.
Written in 1974, based on an overheard conversation between a couple in a restaurant. CHORUS: I feel you slippin’ through my finger, And maybe that’s the way it has to be; But let’s stop the car right here, Have another cup of coffee, And tell me why you’re breakin’ up with me.
Written in about 1975 I can go for months without once ever thinkin’ of you; And then it’s hit me, The feelin’ will grip me again.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Written around 1978 in Albuquerque I was born in Tucumcari, wen to school in T or C, My folks moved to Artesia, so I hitched to the Duke City; Did some gamblin’ in Portales, Santa Rosa, and Raton, Met a man in Bernalillo, ran away to Farmington.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Written around 1976 He gets up every day at 7:30, Every morning starts the same: A quick cup of coffee, a long look at the map, And a few low calls of her name.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Loosely based on an encounter with man from Brighton in Dover, 1978. On the Dover docks one night, In the middle of a barroom fight, I heard a man call out, “It’s people like you Bringin’ this country down.â€
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Written around 1975 for my Henry Regnery Company co-worker friend Mary Mack’s October wedding to John Eley in Chicago I knew a girl in the valley of the sycamore, And every evening she’d stand by her cagin door; And sing this song to the swaying sycamore trees, And you’d hear the words come back on […]
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Written around 1976 It’s a long, straight road to Cleveland And that old gray dog keeps rollin’ along; It’s a long, straight road to Cleveland And that old gray dog keeps rollin’ along.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Country-western waltz written in 1976 Pullin’ off the highway to eat where there’s some room to park He orders the steak combination as it’s getting’ dark As he waits for a refill, the diner gets real still As the newest sad song fills the room.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Written around 1976 Here they come up from the river, Empty pockets and sad young men; Dusty and dirty and broken down, No gold in that damned old river again.
