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Woody Guthrie




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Woody Guthrie Album



1996
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Lonesome Day
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. . .


Hey lolly lolly lolly
hey lolly lolly lolly low

A married man will keep your secret
a single boy will talk about you

A playin' man will keep your secret
a quiet man will talk about you

Well, a married man's an easy rider
a single boy gets all excited

Single boy walks up and down the street
Married man's in his stockin' feet

. . .


Come all you old time cowboys,
And listen to my song,
Please do not grow weary,
I'll not detain you long.
Concerning some wild cowboys,
Who did agree to go,
Spend the summer pleasant,
On the trail of the Buffalo.
I found myself in Griffin,
In the spring of '83,
When a well known famous drover,
Came walking up to me.
Said, "How do you do, young fellow,
Well how would you like to go,
And spend the summer pleasant,
On the trail of the Buffalo?"
Well I being out of work right then,
To the drover I did say,
"Going out on the Buffalo Road,
Depends on the pay.
If you will pay good wages,
And transportation to and fro,
I think I might go with you,
On the hunt of the Buffalo."
"Of course I'll pay good wages,
And transportation too,
If you will agree to work for me,
Until the season's through."
But if you do get homesick,
And try to run away,
You will starve to death,
Out on the trail and also lose your pay."
Well with all his flattering talking,
He signed up quite a train,
Some 10 or 12 in number,
Some able bodied men.
The trip it was a pleasant one,
As we hit the westward road,
Until we crossed old Boggy Creek,
In old New Mexico.
There our pleasures ended,
And our troubles began.
A lightening storm hit us,
And made the cattle run.
Got all full of stickers,
From the cactus that did not grow,
And the outlaws watching,
To pick us off in the hills of Mexico.
Well our working season ended,
And the drover would not pay,
If you had not drunk too much,
You are all in debt to me.
But the cowboys never had heard,
Such a thing as a bankrupt law,
So we left that drover's bones to bleach,
On the Plains of the Buffalo.

. . .


John Henry when he was a baby
settin' on his mammy's knee
picked up an hammer in his little right hand
Said "Hammer be the death of me me me,
hammer be the death of me!"

Some say he's born in Texas
Some say he's born up in Maine
I just say he was a Louisiana man
Leader of a steel-driving chain gang
leader on a steel-driving gang

"Well", the captain said to John Henry
"I'm gonna bring my steam drill around
gonna whup that steel on down down down
whup that steel on down!"

John Henry said to the captain (what he say?)
"You can bring your steam drill around
gonna bring my steam drill out on the job
I'll beat your steam drill down down down
beat your steam drill down!"

John Henry said to his Shaker
"Shaker you had better pray
If you miss your six feet of steel
It'll be your buryin' day day day
It'll be your buryin' day!"

Now the Shaker said to John Henry
"Man ain't nothing but a man
but before I'd let that steam drill beat me down
I'd die with an hammer in my hand hand hand
I'd die with an hammer in my hand!"

John Henry had a little woman
Her name was Polly Anne
John Henry took sick and was laid up in bed
While Polly handled steel like a man man man
Polly handled steel like a man.

They took John Henry to the graveyard
laid him down in the sand
Every locomotive comin' a-rolling by by by
hollered "there lies a steel-drivin' man man man
there lies a steel-drivin' man!"

. . .


It was late last night when the boss came home askin' for his lady
The only answer that he got, "
She's gone with the Gypsy Davey,
She's gone with the Gypsy Dave."

Go saddle for me a buckskin horse
And a hundred dollar saddle.
Point out to me their wagon tracks
And after them I'll travel,
After them I'll ride.

Well I had not rode to the midnight moon,
When I saw the campfire gleaming.
I heard the notes of the big guitar
And the voice of the gypsies singing
That song of the Gypsy Dave.

There in the light of the camping fire,
I saw her fair face beaming.
Her heart in tune with the big guitar
And the voice of the gypsies singing
That song of the Gypsy Dave.

Have you forsaken your house and home?
Have you forsaken your baby?
Have you forsaken your husband dear
To go with the Gypsy Davy?
And sing with the Gypsy Davy?
The song of the Gypsy Dave?

Yes I've forsaken my husband dear
To go with the Gypsy Davy,
And I've forsaken my mansion high
But not my blue-eyed baby,
Not my blue-eyed baby.

She smiled to leave her husband dear
And go with the Gypsy Davy;
But the tears come a-trickling down her cheeks
To think of the blue-eyed baby,
Pretty little blue-eyed baby.

Take off, take off your buckskin gloves
Made of Spanish leather;
Give to me your lily-white hair
And we'll ride home together
We'll ride home again.

No, I won't take off my buckskin gloves,
They're made of Spanish leather.
I'll go my way from day to day
And sing with the Gypsy Davy
That song of the Gypsy Davy,
That song of the Gypsy Davy,
That song of the Gypsy Dave.

. . .


I went across the river
I lay down to sleep
I went across the river
I lay down to sleep
When I woke up
Had shackles on my feet

It takes a worried man
To sing a worried song
It takes a worried man
To sing a worried song
I'm worried now
But I won't be worried long

Twenty-one links
Of chain around my leg
Twenty-one links
Of chain around my leg
And on each link
'S an initial of my name

I asked that judge
What's gonna be my fine
I asked that judge
What's gonna be my fine
Twenty-one years
On the Rocky Mountain line

That train pulled out
Twenty-one coaches long
That train pulled out
Twenty-one coaches long
And the woman I love
Is on that train and gone

Twenty-one years
Pay my awful crime
Twenty-one years
Pay my awful crime
Tweny-one years
And I still got ninety-nine

. . .


There's more pretty girls than one
more pretty girls than one
every town I ramble 'round
more pretty girls than one

Look down that railroad line
see the train roll by
train rolls by with the woman I Love
and I Hung my head and cried

Look out across that sea
see the breakers well
how many a love is washed away
no human tongue can tell

. . .


I'm blowin' down this old dusty road,
I'm a-blowin' down this old dusty road,
I'm a-blowin' down this old dusty road, Lord, Lord,
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this a-way.

I'm a-goin' where the water taste like wine,
I'm a-goin' where the water taste like wine,
I'm a-goin' where the water taste like wine, Lord,
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way.

I'm a-goin' where the dust storms never blow,
I'm a-goin' where them dust storms never blow,
I'm a-goin' where them dust storms never blow, blow, blow,
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way.

They say I'm a dust bowl refugee,
Yes, they say I'm a dust bowl refugee,
They say I'm a dust bowl refugee, Lord, Lord,
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way.

I'm a-lookin' for a job at honest pay,
I'm a-lookin' for a job at honest pay,
I'm a-lookin' for a job at honest pay, Lord, Lord,
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way.

My children need three square meals a day,
Now, my children need three square meals a day,
My children need three square meals a day, Lord,
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way.

It takes a ten-dollar shoe to fit my feet,
It takes a ten-dollar shoe to fit my feet,
It takes a ten-dollar shoe to fit my feet, Lord, Lord,
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way.

Your a-two-dollar shoe hurts my feet,
Your two-dollar shoe hurts my feet,
Yes, your two-dollar shoe hurts my feet, Lord, Lord,
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way.

I'm a-goin' down this old dusty road,
I'm blowin' down this old dusty road,
I'm a-blowin' down this old dusty road, Lord, Lord,
An' I ain't a-gonna be treated this way.

. . .


Come all of you cowboys all over this land,
I'll teach you the law of the Ranger's Command:
To hold a six shooter, and never to run
As long as there's bullets in both of your guns.

I met a fair maiden whose name I don't know;
I asked her to the roundup with me would she go;
She said she'd go with me to the cold roundup,
And drink that hard liquor from the cold, bitter cup.

We started for the canyon in the fall of the year
Expecting to get there with a herd of fat steer;
And the rustlers broke on us in the dead hours of night;
She 'rose from her warm bed, a battle to fight.

She 'rose from her warm bed with a gun in each hand,
Said: Come all of you cowboys and fight for your land,
Come all of you cowboys and don't ever run
As long as there's bullets in both of your guns.

. . .


My mother called me to her bedside
These words she said to me
If you don't quit your rambling ways
They're gonna get you in the penetentiary
Gonna get you in the penetentiary poor boy
Gonna get you in the penetentiary
If you don't quit your reckless ways
They're gonna get you in the penetentiary

So I sat myself down in a gambling game
But I could not play my hand
Just thinking about that woman I love
Run away with another man
Run away with another man poor boy
Run away with another man
Just thinking about that woman I love
Run away with another man

The cards came around the table lord
And I had such a worried mind
My stack of gold dollars I wasted away
And I lost about ninety-nine
I lost about ninety-nine poor boy
I lost about ninety-nine
My stack of gold dollars I wasted away
And I lost about ninety-nine

It wasn't very long till I seen him again
He ran away left her behind
And I laid him down with my old forty-four
And the judge gave me ninety-nine
The judge gave me ninety-nine poor boy
The judge gave me ninety-nine
I laid a man down with my big forty-four
And the judge gave me ninety-nine

Well the jury said I had to pay
And the clerk he wrote it down
And the judge called out my number
Two sixes upside down
Two sixes upside down poor boy
Two sixes upside down
The judge called out my number
Two sixes upside down

. . .

Lonesome Day

[No lyrics]

. . .


If you'll gather 'round me, children,
A story I will tell
'Bout Pretty Boy Floyd, an outlaw,
Oklahoma knew him well.

It was in the town of Shawnee,
A Saturday afternoon,
His wife beside him in his wagon
As into town they rode.

There a deputy sheriff approached him
In a manner rather rude,
Vulgar words of anger,
An' his wife she overheard.

Pretty Boy grabbed a log chain,
And the deputy grabbed his gun;
In the fight that followed
He laid that deputy down.

Then he took to the trees and timber
To live a life of shame;
Every crime in Oklahoma
Was added to his name.

But a many a starving farmer
The same old story told
How the outlaw paid their mortgage
And saved their little homes.

Others tell you 'bout a stranger
That come to beg a meal,
Underneath his napkin
Left a thousand dollar bill.

It was in Oklahoma City,
It was on a Christmas Day,
There was a whole car load of groceries
Come with a note to say:

Well, you say that I'm an outlaw,
You say that I'm a thief.
Here's a Christmas dinner
For the families on relief.

Yes, as through this world I've wandered
I've seen lots of funny men;
Some will rob you with a six-gun,
And some with a fountain pen.

And as through your life you travel,
Yes, as through your life you roam,
You won't never see an outlaw
Drive a family from their home.

. . .


Hard, ain't it hard, ain't it hard
To love one who never did love you
Hard, ain't it hard, ain't it hard great god
To love one that never would be true

It was late last night when my true love came home
He was a-knockin' on my door
I got up in a fit of jealousy and I said
True love, don't come here anymore

Hard, ain't it hard, ain't it hard
To love one who never did love you
Hard, ain't it hard, ain't it hard great god
To love one that never would be true

The first time I seen my true love
He was a-knockin' at my door
The last time I seen his hard-hearted smile
He was lyin' dead on the floor

Hard, ain't it hard, ain't it hard
To love one who never did love you
Hard, ain't it hard, ain't it hard great god
To love one that never would be true

Don't go to drinkin' and gamblin'
Don't go there your sorrows to drown
This hard liquor place is a low-down disgrace
It's the meanest bad place in this town

Hard, ain't it hard, ain't it hard
To love one who never did love you
Hard, ain't it hard, ain't it hard great god
To love one that never would be true

. . .


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