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Lyrics....what ya got? HELLDORADO VID ADDED


Buc McMaster

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Here's another fairly new song by me.. It's a controversial 'un..

 

Come all you decent workin' men wherever you may be

I want you all to come here now an' listen onto me

A young boy in our city got arrested now today

They found him with some pot an' gave him seven years in jail

 

He was strollin' on a sidewalk when the cops they took him down

They broke his teeth, cracked his nose an' pushed him to the ground

The boy he stood no chance against twelve armed-up men of law

So now he's lyin' in a dirty cell with a bleedin' broken jaw

 

The courtroom was just finished with a case of rape an' theft

When the boy limped to the podium, there was no use to protest

The rapist he walked out of there with a warning an a fine

But the poor boy he got seven years 'cause two joints that's a crime!

 

Come all you decent honest men wherever you may be

I want you all to come here now an' listen onto me

How can we jail theese people, lord caint anyone here see

How we're jailin' all theese harmless folks, While the criminals roam free

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Let's not make this into censorship. While some of the lyrics posted could be construed as political they are nonetheless valid works that represent the thoughts and feelings of the writer. My style of songwriting does not generally delve into specific true events, but I don't dismiss those that do as something that doesn't belong in this thread. Just like songs on the radio, shows on the television or books on the shelf, we are free to warm to the the ones we like and disregard the rest.

 

Modac........why did you remove your posts?

 

This is a verse and refrain I've been kicking around form time to time for a couple of years now. It sprang from a conversation I had with my youngest brother. He was in a bad place at the time but all is well now.....

 

I stumble on through the dust of desperation

The winds of worry tuggin' at my clothes

The road is long and I am weary

What I've done to earn this fate heaven knows

Refrain:

Carry me to the other shore, Lord

Lift my soul from stones of circumstance

Suffer me to bear no more, Lord

Take my hand and teach my feet another dance.

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A song I wrote ages ago, but only just got around to recording (I didn't bother including the chorus as it dont translate so well to spoken verse [cool] )

 

Bluebird

 

Heading out To Mexico

When I get back

You won't be alone

 

I left her there

With broken wings

But my Bluebird

She sings and sings

 

Chorus

 

Moving out to Illinois

Hundred miles

and she'll be mine

 

Rivers wide

and mountains tall

My Bluebird

She lights them all

 

Chorus

 

One more time

Cross empty seas

With lonesome sails

She waits for me

 

Like the sun

She walks beside me

Oh my Bluebird

Flys free

 

Chorus

 

When summers pass

and winters fall

I cannot hear

My Bluebirds call

 

I found her cold

With tears of snow

Now my Bluebird

Her hair hangs low

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If I sort of stripped a gear

Started grinnin' ear to ear

Would Ya Love Me?

 

Started singin' out o' tune

Maybe howlin' at the moon

Would Ya Love Me?

 

Half a bubble off plumb, playin' with a marked deck

Excitable boy, or a ravin' lunatic

If the light stays on, but there ain't nobody home

Would Ya Love Me?

 

If I sort of blew a fuse

Get my picture in the news

Would Ya Love Me?

 

Lose a fortune at the track,

Get lost drivin' back

Would Ya Love Me?

 

If my candle blew out, if I lost my luck

If my lid just flipped, if my elavator stuck

If ya had to stop and think, if my pen was out of ink

Would Ya Love Me?

 

Could you love an egomaniac, neurotic psychopath, runnin' on Cheerios?

Came from the old school, thick headed like a mule, all dressed and ready to go...

 

If my second hand stopped

And they had to call the cops

Would Ya Love Me?

 

If a door was ajar

But I wasn't in the car

Would Ya Love Me?

 

If I was all framed up, but a little out of square

5 foot 10 full of hot steamin' air

If ya had to stop and think, if my pen was out of ink

Would Ya Love Me?

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Murph I really like that one. Strikes a chord about how girls (particularly at my age) seem drawn to fools who treat them like excrement.

 

Bk sounds like a good band, something about fiddles particularly in irish music makes my blood move a little faster. That plus me being drunk is the only way to get me to dance.

 

 

Anyway (warning very long)

 

Little prince and gypsy

 

Little prince and gypsy, Walkin’ down the road

Sunshine made em tipsy and then their heart rates slowed

Big bad wolf is coming

Cried the little prince

They ran off through the forest

And they’ve been running ever since

 

Five years pass and prince grown old

Gypsy loves him so he’s told

Then underneath the hot moon light

They shared a cigarette

Little prince held gypsy tight

Said please don’t forget

The iron struck was hot that night

He filled her every sense

They didn’t care it wasn’t right

And they’ve been lovers every since

 

Ten years gone a twisting

Little prince grown large

Love was growin’ calmer now

Gypsy growin’ hard

Both of them grew tired

Her heart wanders like the wind

Little princes’ charm

No longer kept her pinned

So she said good bye

To the little prince

So he grew cold inside

And has been fighting ever since

 

Crimson tears cried little prince

A cage around his skull

Scars upon his knuckles

The piper took his toll

And hunting for his brother

Big bad wolf came forth

When they saw each other

Prince did draw his sword

And his dreams are painted

With the bloodiest of tints

In came roaring sunlight

And they’ve been dueling ever since

 

At that time the Gypsy

Was dancin’ round a flame

Tellin’ kings their future

Askin’ life for change

And though her hands were empty

When she felt her heart strings pull

She sold her only diamond

And stole the wenches soul

Her heart it cried to find him

But he had left no prints

She cried with the widow

And has been searching ever since

 

Little prince was dying

On the blade of big bad wolf

His breathing growing ragged

His fire growing cold

But then his eyes saw gypsy

And his will grew strong

His brother called him foolish

But he knew that he was wrong

His blade was wrought of fire

It cut big bad wolf deep

To the wicked wolf

He said the wicked find no sleep

But then in his anger

Wolf struck the gypsy see

The little prince did die for her

To set the gypsy free

Little prince was crying

Kill me now good sir

And his brother big bad wolf

Became a murderer

 

and a bloody madness

Was wrapped inside his mane

He broke the gypsy magic

When little prince was slain

Big bad wolf then turned to her

A ring wrapped in his hand

He’d been hunting gypsy

Princes’ death he did not demand

For her love he slaughtered him

She did fall in love

And from the crackling fire

Came the crying dove

Little princes’ spirit cried and began to wince

they made love together

and gypsy has forgotten ever since

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Thought I'd add another juvenile political diatribe (JPD). Well, this one's not really political, per se. Whether it is juvenile or a diatribe is up to the listener, I suppose.

 

It is a true story about the shooting death of a cab driver in Minneapolis back in 2003. It's on my new record. When I play out, it is probably my most requested song, for some reason. It is also the third-most watched video on my YouTube channel. After I posted it on YouTube, I heard from Mohamed Saleh's family; they liked the song.

 

THE BALLAD OF MOHAMED SALEH

copyright 2010 by David Hanners

 

My name’s Mohamed Saleh, as if you even care

To you I’m just one more Somali; to me, you’re just another fare

I never heard the shot they say took my life

I pray Allah shows His mercy to my child, to my wife

 

Was born in Mogadishu before the junta fell

Lived the horror of that city descending into hell

But Allah protects the faithful, He will show the way

Bribed my way into Kenya, then to the USA

 

They call it Minnesota Nice, but it’s the knife before the stab

Only job that I could get was behind the wheel of this cab

Was a humid August night, business was slow

A fare called in, East Phillips Park, where even I don’t like to go

 

I looked up in the rear-view and it made my blood run cold

He put a gun upside my head and said to do as I was told

Clans kill in Banadir over grievances generations old

I had $87; is that what I died for?

 

All praise to Allah who is great, I pray my faith was true

Survived the streets of Mogadishu just to die on 18th Avenue

And my name’s Mohamed Saleh, as if you even care

To you I’m just one more Somali, to me you’re just another fare

Yeah, you’re just another fare

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I see a pattern here........

 

DH.......you write well of true life stories......union tales, sordid love triangles, soldier stories. I wonder do you ever write fiction.....spin a tale from the imagination.....write on a subject where there are no known facts. Reading your lyrics I am reminded of Phil Ochs. Though old Phil seemed to work a lot of undiguised anger into his stuff, your work comes across as matter-of-fact journalism with meter and rhyme. Not a criticism, just an observation. Any thoughts?

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That's a valid observation, Buc. And quite true; I just find that as an observer of the human condition (whatever that means) true life just seems to offer a lot better story possibilities than I could ever make up. And I do have a decent imagination.

 

I do have several "made-up" tunes, though. Here's one.

 

When My Demons and I Come Home

copyright 2010 by David Hanners

 

I fill it with unleaded at the Sinclair

Get a big bag of chips, a six-pack of beer

I'm gonna head out to where the hills fall flat

Maybe Kearney or maybe North Platte

Car door slams like a roadside bomb

When my demons and I come home

 

They roll the sidewalks up here when the sun goes down

So I enlisted in the Guard to get out of town

Wound up in Iraq and I don't know why

Ain't old enough to drink but I'm old enough to die

I can still see his face, some mother's son

When my demons and I come home

 

bridge

Dad tries but he don't understand

And with the cuts down at the VA, they've done all that they can

If I had the shot again, you know I would aim to miss

They never warn you about that when you enlist

 

Gravel road, moonless night

Everything is wrong; it'll never be right

And I wanna go where there's no pain

So I park on the crossing and wait for the train

Yeah, I wanna go where I won't feel

So I place my faith in 240 tons of steel

Yeah, 240 tons of steel of the B&M Railroad

When my demons and I come home

Two-forty tons of steel of the Burlington & Missouri Railroad

When my demons and I come home

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Ok, another "true-life" tune (as Bill Monroe called them) then I'll get back to made-up stuff....

 

James Roy Knox's Blues

copyright 2010 by David Hanners

 

My name is James Roy Knox, I'm unremorseful as they come

Was born in Alabama, 19-and-51

Can't say I've had a hard life, no harder'n other men

Now I'm strapped down to this gurney and the road's about to end

 

I left Alabama after doing two years in the pen

Got a job hanging drywall down in Galveston

Some men just find it easy to avoid each sin and earthly vice

But I chose a darker path and I never did think twice

 

Joe Sanchez owned a drug store; he had a smile for all he met

I walked in; he was a dead man. he just didn't know it yet

I wanted drugs and money, like a fool, Sanchez said "no"

But you don't argue with me .38 and he crumpled to the floor

 

I took four vials of Demarol, $15 from the til

Never gave Sanchez a second thought and I doubt I ever will

Cops eventually caught me, I got snitched on by some pal

Who got jammed up on some felony and I was his ticket out

 

I did not act in self-defense, I was not abused as a child

I alone was guilty so I said so at my trial

Lawyers talk of justice, families talk of pain

But some men are just born evil and it's been that way since Cain

 

My name is James Roy Knox, I'm unremorseful as they come

Was born in Alabama, 19-and-51

As the final hour draws near there's no appeal on which to wait

They let the drugs flow at 6 p.m., I was dead by 6:08

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Actually, that's an interesting issue, and I had a discussion about that with somebody yesterday, in fact. I've never really had people walk out after one of my gigs going, "Gee, what a downer, I feel like jumping off a bridge" because I try to use a lot of humor between songs. I figure if the songs are going to be dark, the rest of the performance needs to be balanced with something lighter. So all in all, folks just walk out thinking they've been entertained.

 

But, on a lighter note, here's one. It is based on a snippet of a true event; a guitarist friend of mine found a key in his backyard. At the time, he liked a Wisconsin beer named Leinenkuegel (I probably butchered the spelling) and played a Goodall, so that might make the last verse easier to understand.

 

The YouTube version of a live performance of the song is here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JuLzinKm7bg

 

The Key in Bill's Backyard

copyright 2010 by David Hanners

 

I was there when Bill found a key in his backyard

Whoever musta lost it didn't look too hard

I asked Bill what it went to; he said he had no idea

Looked at it close, shrugged and sipped his beer

 

chorus

It might be the key to his fortune

It might be the key to his heart

Maybe it unlocks the gates of hell

On some abandoned K-Mart

 

We passed it 'round tryin' to guess what it unlocked

Al Capone's jail cell, Trump's safe-deposit box

You got your MasterLocks, your Nationals and Yales

This key had no name far as Bill could tell

 

chorus[

It might be the key to his fortune

It might be the key to his heart

Maybe it unlocks the fiery gates of hell

Or a mailbox in Bismark

 

We live our lives and we lock every door

We shut each other out 'til we can shut no more

This rusty key just might be a sign from God

That'd be just like Him to make Bill dig it out the sod

 

chorus

It might be the key to his fortune

It might be the key to his heart

Maybe it unlocks the very gates of hell

On a '69 Dodge Dart

 

My friend Bill is an even-tempered guy

He likes his beer from Wisconsin, his guitars from Hawaii

But this key has him mystified

He will get no rest 'til every lock he has tried

 

chorus

It might be the key to his fortune

It might be the key to his heart

Maybe it unlocks the gates of hell

Or the case to his guitar

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So here's another "made-up" one. No true story behind it. That I know of, anyway....

 

Exit Jane

copyright 2010 by David Hanners

 

A wind as wicked as a shot of bad bourbon

Whistles 'cross this Minnesota plain

We sit in the truck with the motor runnin'

Nothin' left to say

 

'Cause when we talk, it's just about small things

The cold, the rent, the timing belt

God forbid we should touch something honest

Like how you or I ever felt

 

Your suitcase is heavy, I set it on the ground

Flip my collar to the wind

That old gray dog, she just rolled into town

And I wonder if I'll ever see you naked again

 

chorus

Bury me in the crook of your neck

Bathe me in your halo effect

Feel the murmurs so hard to detect

Why do you have to go?

 

I once believed I could divine your thinking

Now you're blank as fresh drywall

Still, I'll always be the fool for you

So if you ever need something, just call

 

The bus pulls in and swallows you up

Hope it takes you where you want

But I got a hunch your ghost will hang 'round

'Cause it still has my heart to haunt

 

(chorus)

 

A wind as wicked as a shot of bad bourbon

Whistles 'cross this ancient plain

Ain't no use tryin' to reason with

A heart filled with so much pain

Yeah, there ain't no use tryin' to reason with

A heart filled with this much pain

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Thanks for the kind words, Buc. And speaking of Texas (where you're from) here's a tune I wrote a few years ago that was inspired, in part, by a waitress at Poor David's Pub, Dallas' premier folk venue. Played there a couple times when I lived in Dallas, but that was so long ago that it was when Poor David's was on Lower Greenville.

 

(And speaking of Texas, I -- along with 799 other songwriters -- entered the Kerrville "New Folk" competition this year. A boy can dream....)

 

Curve of the Horizon

copyright 2010 by David Hanners

 

She had an angelic face, she was thin as a wisp

And that twang in her voice carried just the hint of a lisp

The look in her eyes told me she'd been everywhere

Maybe I knew better; maybe I just didn't care

"Excuse me," she said, "do you have the time?"

I suppose she was looking for a partner in crime

 

She set her beer on the bar, pulled a Camel from the pack

Asked me for a light but I've kicked my bad habits

Then outta nowhere she gave me her theory of life:

"Some have all the luck," she said, "and some know only strife"

"So when push comes to shove and you're standing on the ledge

The decision to jump comes easy," I lamely said

No sooner had the words escaped from my mouth

I knew there were some things I knew nothing about

 

She finally dug a lighter from the murky depths of her purse

The way things were goin' I thought they couldn't get much worse

But that's all right, you know; some things just aren't meant to be

Maybe she was sent here to save me from me

And on the edge of the night, where the saints take the fall

The sinners are left standing but they do not stand that tall

And on the edge of the night, where the smoke obscures the lies

The truth remains as distant as the curve of the horizon

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The basic lineup is Bodhran' date=' Guitar, Fiddle and Whistle. But the fiddler and I (mostly him) double on Mandolin. He also plays Banjo and Irish Bouzouki. The whistler plays Irish Flute, Small Pipes and Highland Pipes as well.[/quote']

 

I love this band already!

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Got to agree with Albert.........some good stuff here!

 

This is the title track from the CD I did with my band back in 06. This is the song that found it's way to Sheryl Crow. She has expressed interest in recording it, but I'm not holding my breath for that!

 

If It Never Rains copyright 2006 MBB

 

I hang my head and stare at the floor again

You sigh aloud and turn in your chair

The shadows grow long on the wall as the sun goes down

At least we agree this just isn't fair.

 

Yesterday is a song we sang

Tomorrow's a door at the end of the hall

Today is the silence we wear as the darkness comes

Deep in the night, hear my heart's call....

 

Oo oo don't you let me go

Mad sad or glad - they're all one and the same

Oo oo baby we both know

Love never grows if it never rains

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Got to agree with Albert.........some good stuff here!

 

This is the title track from the CD I did with my band back in 06. This is the song that found it's way to Sheryl Crow. She has expressed interest in recording it' date=' but I'm not holding my breath for that!

 

[b']If It Never Rains[/b] copyright 2006 MBB

 

I hang my head and stare at the floor again

You sigh aloud and turn in your chair

The shadows grow long on the wall as the sun goes down

At least we agree this just isn't fair.

 

Yesterday is a song we sang

Tomorrow's a door at the end of the hall

Today is the silence we wear as the darkness comes

Deep in the night, hear my heart's call....

 

Oo oo don't you let me go

Mad sad or glad - they're all one and the same

Oo oo baby we both know

Love never grows if it never rains

 

 

 

Great tune! I can see why Crow is interested in it. Having sat in that same chair and looked at the shadows a time or two, I can attest that you caught the emotions of that moment. Thanks for sharing.

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Buc,

Helldorado is one of the best set of lyrics I've read in a long time. I would love to hear the melody. I wish I could write lyrics like that. I've been to Tombstone many times. Great tune! Here is my submission

 

Your Memory Stayed Behind © 2009 Michael King

 

You and I are over; all the papers have been signed

You have your own life, and darling I have mine

But the scent of your sweet perfume still, lingers in our bed

There on the pillow, where you once laid your head

 

Chorus

Your memory stayed behind

It’s taking a toll on my mind

No matter what I do I can’t get over you

‘Cause your memory stayed behind

 

These past few months alone, have now turned into a year

Yet I still hear you calling, “sweet heart come here”

I close my eyes and feel your hand, gently on my brow

Your soft touch helps to ease the pain of how life is now

 

Chorus

 

Bridge

Time heals all and sure enough its been good to me

Now you’re just a glimmer in the past I barely see

 

Chorus

I left your memory behind

Old thoughts of you never cross my mind

My hurtin’ is through now that I’m over you

I left your memory behind

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