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Guy Clark




Music World  →  Lyrics  →  G  →  Guy Clark  →  Albums  →  Workbench Songs

Guy Clark Album


Workbench Songs (2006)
2006
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
Exposé
6.
7.
No Lonesome Tune
8.
9.
10.
11.
. . .


Now what's up with the walkin' man
I wonder where he's gone
Marchin' down to Birmingham
I think I'll tag along
Was a walkin' man come by here
A hundred years ago
Walkin' down the trail of tears
Out to Oklahom-i-o out to Oklahome

Hand me down my walkin' shoes
Hand me down my cane
Tune me up my mandolin
I'll be on my way, hey sure does smell like rain

Woody Guthrie was a walkin' man
In the dust bowl days
Had a six string guitar in his hands
He killed a fascist every day
Chuck Berry is a walkin' man
So was Ghandi too
Lace me up my ol' Brogans
That's just what I'll do
I got walkin' left to do

Hand me down my walkin' shoes
Hand me down my cane
Tune me up my mandolin
I'll be on my way, hey
If I had shoes like the walkin' man
Tell you what I'd do
I'd walk away and not come back
'Till I got to Katmandu-da-do-da

. . .


I ain't lookin' for trouble
I can't stay here tonight
I got to leave here on the double
If I want to see the morning light
Don't need no pistol for the tickets
I've got just enough to get us down the line
I don't know what happens next
Your guess is just as good as mine

Chorus

Move with me Magdalene
I'm tired of the same old scene
There's a greyhound leaving at midnight
If you came with me it'd be like a dream
Come on Magdalene
Move with me Magdalene

Verse

I've heard Mexico is easy
I wouldn't stay here if I could
Don't come along just to please you
Let's go while the going's good

Chorus

Move with me Magdalene
I'm tired of the same old scene
Let's go down to San Miguel
Let's go be somebody else tonight
Come on Magdalene
There's a greyhound leaving at midnight
If you came with me it'd be like a dream
Come on Magdalene
Move with me Magdalene

. . .


well the sky was blacker than a funeral suit
hotter than a depot stove
hide in the cellar
here comes amarillo
blowin down the road

ya got yer hail stones big as hen eggs boy
yer clouds as green can be
old mother natures raisin hell
she parked a pickup in a tree

tornado time in texas
take the paint right off of your barn
tornado time in texas
blow the tattoo off your arm

well when pigs fly,no I mean really fly
you can bet that it's blowin hard
uncle clarence was sittin in the outhouse
now he's sitting in the yard
granny's got the barn cat under her arm
she's got a dish pan over her head
Daddy's countin kids four five six
better bring a loaf of bread

tornado time in texas
take the paint right off of your barn
tornado time in texas
blow the tattoo off your arm

hidin in the cellar with the cannin jars
sounds like a train up top
hold your breath and peek outside
to see what we ain't got
it'll take your wheat,it'll take your corn
even take your cotton balls
suck red river just as dry as a bone
dump it on wichitaw falls

tornado time in texas
take the paint right off of your barn
tornado time in texas

. . .


Well, he used to be a pretty good rodeo clown
People loved to watch him horse around
When that rank black bucked em all down
He was a pretty good rodeo clown

Till he met the gal who sold the souvenirs
He could make her smile from ear to ear
They stayed up all night drinkin rodeo beer
He was a pretty good rodeo clown

He dont laugh much anymore
Since she locked her trailer door
Tears and grease paint will not mix
And old dogs will not learn new tricks
Hes got that smile painted on,
nobody knows somethins wrong
She broke his funny bone
Broke his funny bone

When that new young bull rider came on the circuit
Oh in about, eight seconds flat she was gone
Now he asks himself if she was worth it
You can hide your heart in a barrel for just so long

He dont laugh much anymore
Since she locked her trailer door
Tears and grease paint will not mix
And old dogs will not learn new tricks
Hes got that smile painted on,
and we all knew what was wrong
She broke his funny bone

. . .

Exposé

[No lyrics]

. . .


I was sittin' on the fender of someone else's truck
Drinking Old Crow whisky, hot 7-up
Out in the parking lot

You can hear the band a playin right through the wall
Ain't no cover charge, there ain't no last call
Out in the parking lot

Now there's a couple of cowpokes puttin' up there dukes
Wasn't much to it after both of 'em puked
Out in the parking lot

Now someone called the police and the police finally came
And they wrote 'em a couple of tickets and they took a couple of names
Out in the parking lot

Chorus:

I love to see the neon dancin' on the gravel
I love to hear the pickup trucks come unraveled
And some have given up, some have given in
Looks like everybody's looking for a friend
Out in the parking lot

Oops there's a couple who could not wait to get home
They're probably in love so let's leave them alone
Out in the parking lot

The band is on the bus, they're all loaded up to leave
But the drummer's got a girlfriend and she's tuggin at his sleeve
Out in the parking lot

Chorus

Everybody's gone, they've shut out all the lights
The dust begins to settle and it's never been so quiet
Out in the parking lot

. . .

No Lonesome Tune

[No lyrics]

. . .


Meanwhile down on Beale Street
Drinking in a Beale Street bar
There's a fog rolling off the Mississippi
Has anybody seen Arkansas?
And the deckhands from the towboats
Come ashore wearing Mexican shoes
Headed strait for Graceland
It Was the first thing they wanted to do

Cinco de Mayo in Memphis
Marchetti singing the blues
Soul Sisters huggin Senoritas
All sportin' Blue suede shoes

Porkpie hats and sombreros
Hangin on a downtown street
Swingin pool cues at pinatas
Don't that river smell sweet?
And they all come to get'm some Memphis
A little somethin' for their souls
Lowriders lined up with limousines Hey
They all came to rock and roll

Cinco de Mayo in Memphis
Marchetti singing the blues
Southern belles and Senoritas
All sportin Blue suede shoes

Cinco de Mayo in Memphis
Marchetti singing the blues

. . .


Well she ain't got no cell phone
You got to call her when she's home
All of her clocks have got hands
Now don't try to e-mail her,
you've got to snail mail her
You got to take pen in hand

Ones and zeros, zeros and ones
She'll have none of that virtual fun
She's a real deal ol' fashioned analog girl
In a digital world

Now she gets online out in the backyard
Hangin' up her ol' blue jeans
She's got all of the memory she can live with
She really hates drum machines

Ones and zeros, zeros and ones
She'll have none of that virtual fun
She's a real deal ol' fashioned analog girl
In a digital world

Out in the garden she's got a website
It sparkles in the mornin' dew
Got a mouse in her pocket,
she's got spam in a can
What's an analog girl to do

Ones and zeros, zeros and ones
She'll have none of that virtual fun
She's a real deal ol' fashioned analog girl

. . .


(Guy Clark/Gary Nicholson/Lee Roy Parnell)

Gimme just one more puff Of that worry b gone
I'm planning on feelin' much better Before too long
I gotta world of trouble I need to forget
I'm on my way But I ain't there yet
Gimme just one more puff Of that worry b gone

Everywhere I look Trouble is all I see
I can't listen to the radio And I hate TV
Trouble with the air Trouble with the water
People ain't treatin' one another Like they oughta
Gimme just one more puff Of that worry b gone

I don't want to hear no preachers preachin'
No more politician bitchin'
All of them songs about love gone wrong
Got me wonderin' where my baby's gone

I can't suffer fools wastin' my time
Don't give me no advice that rhymes
Hey gimme just one more puff of that worry b gone

Don't gimme no shit just gimme a hit
I'm smokin' all day and I can't get lit
Don't gimme no guff,gimme a puff
You know how I love that stuff
Gimme just one more puff

. . .


Now There's a man you'll hear about
Most anywhere you go,
And his holdings are in Texas
And his name is Diamond Joe.

And he carries all his money
In a diamond-studded jar.
He never took much trouble
With the process of the law.

I hired out to Diamond Joe, boys,
Did offer him my hand,
He gave a string of horses
So old they could not stand.

And I nearly starved to death, boys,
He did mistreat me so,
And I never saved a dollar
In the pay of Diamond Joe.

Now his bread it was corn dodger
And his meat you couldn't chaw,
Nearly drove me crazy
With the waggin' of his jaw.

And the tellin' of his story,
Mean to let you know
That there never was a rounder
That could lie like Diamond Joe.

Now, I tried three times to quit him,
But he did argue so
I'm still punchin' cattle
In the pay of Diamond Joe.

And when I'm called up yonder
And it's my time to go,
Give my blankets to my buddies

. . .


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