A: Enlightenment B: Endarkenment (Hint: There Is No C)
A: Enlightenment B: Endarkenment (Hint: there is no C)
A: Enlightenment B. Endarkenment (Hint: there is no C)
Tarnished and disgraced, I lay down
A black sparrow come to me in a dream
He whispered: A. Enlightenment B. Endarkenment (Hint: there is no C)
A: Enlightenment B. Endarkenment (Hint: there is no C)
A: Enlightenment B. Endarkenment (Hint: there is no C)
And heaven pours down rain and lightning bolts
And heaven pours down rain and lightning bolts
Swollen and embarrassed I rose up
A black sparrow’s perched on highline pole
He whispered: A. Enlightenment B. Endarkenment (Hint: there is no C)
A: Enlightenment B. Endarkenment (Hint: there is no C)
A: Enlightenment B. Endarkenment (Hint: there is no C)
And heaven pours down rain and lightning bolts
And heaven pours down rain and lightning bolts
Trembling and a shaken I looked down
A black sparrow was tattooed on my hand
It whispered: A. Enlightenment B. Endarkenment (Hint: there is no C)
A: Enlightenment B. Endarkenment (Hint: there is no C)
A: Enlightenment B. Endarkenment (Hint: there is no C)
And heaven pours down rain and lightning bolts
And heaven pours down rain and lightning bolts
RWH: vocal, harmonica,
Kevin Russell: vocal, mandolin
Billy Cassis: acoustic guitar, harmonium
Rick Richards: stomps, shaker, tambourine, cowbell
Written by Ray Wylie Hubbard ©
Snake Farm Publishing (SESAC)
Administered by Bug Music
Drunken Poet’s Dream
Drunken Poet’s Dream
I got a woman who’s wild as Rome
She likes being naked and gazed upon
She crosses a bridge then sets in on fire
She lands like a bird on a telephone wire
I’m gonna hollar, and I’m gonna scream
I’m gonna get me some mescaline
Then I’m gonna rhyme that with gasoline
It’s a drunken poet’s dream
There some money on the table and a pistol on the floor
A few paperback books by Louis Lamoure
Whisky bottles are scattered like last night’s clothes
Cigarettes, papers and Oreos
My harmonica’s got a busted reed
My lips are chapped and about to bleed
She says, that’s nothing when she was a kid
She danced with the dead at the pyramids
Chorus
Now I’ll never pay back my student loan
Smelling like Coors and cheap cologne
She tells me not to worry about Judgment Day
She says dying to get to heaven’s just not our way
Chorus
I got a woman who’s wild as Rome
She likes being naked and gazed upon
RWH: vocal, acoustic guitar, harmonica
Gurf Morlix: electric guitar, vocal
Je Plankenhorn: electric guitar
Rick Richards: drums, percussion
George Reiff: bass
Bukka Allen: piano
Written by Ray Wylie Hubbard (Snake Farm Publishing-SESAC) and
Hayes Carll (Highway 87 Music-SESAC) ©
Administered by Bug Music
Down Home Country Blue’s
Down Home Country Blue’s
Sugar’s got some sweetness to it, as do my baby’s lips
And when she hears some ol’ Howlin Wolf she’s got to move her hips
Now she ain’t much for the bluegrass fiddle, she likes that bottleneck slide
A little kick with a lot of bottom and let the resonator take the ride
So listen up, lookie here, I’m talking’ bout them country blues,
Now you take some Black Diamond strings on a J45
You hit them chords and get that thump, you downright sanctified
Or you can take a lipstick pickup, play it through a Fender Tweed
Oh it’s sweet …so goddamn sweet when it squeals, squalls and bleeds
So listen up, lookie here, I’m talking’ bout them country blues,
Them down home country blues
You know I’m strong for the union and the rank and file
And I talk with a southern drawl and I still say honey child
Now I’m partial to old hooker’s singing “Crawling King Snake”
And I can say that Muddy Waters is as deep as William Blake
So listen up, lookie here, I’m talking ’bout them country blues,
Them down home country blues
Ahh, listen up, lookie here, I’m talking ‘bout them country blues
Them down home country blues
RWH: vocal, Gibson J45
Jeff Plankenhorn: dobro
Derick O’Brian: electric guitar
Rick Richards: drums
George Reiff: bass
Bukka Allen: keyboards
Written by Ray Wylie Hubbard ©
Published by Snake Farm Publishing (SESAC)
Administered by Bug Music
Wasp’s Nest
Wasp’s Nest
There’s a wasp nest on my back porch, it might be a cause for alarm
There’s a wasp nest on my back porch, it might be a cause for alarm
There’s some holes in my screen door and the little critters is all a swarm
T o fix the holes, it’s gonna take some hairpins and some wire
T o fix the holes, it’s gonna take some hairpins and some wire
I f a wasp is to sting you, it burns like unrighteous hellfire
T hem goddamn wasps is good for nothin’ they’re lowdown miserable mean
Them goddamn wasps is good for nothin’ they’re lowdown miserable mean
For the time being I’ll just swat at’em till them holes is patched up in the screen
RWH: bottleneck slide
Lucas Hubbard: electric guitar
Rick Richards: drums, dinero bag
George Reiff: bass
Written by Ray Wylie Hubbard ©
Snake Farm Publishing (SESAC)
Administered by Bug Music
Pots and Pans
Pots and Pans
You take some pot & pans
You take some pots & pans
You take some pots & pans
Hit ’em with some sticks
Hit ’em with some sticks
Just go on & hit’em with a couple sticks
Now I got a mandolin,
I got a mandolin,
I got a mandolin
I love the way it rings,
I love the way it rings,
I just love the way it rings
Baby’s got a tambourine,
Baby’s got a tambourine,
Baby’s got a tambourine,
Shakes it in my face
Shakes it my face
She just shakes it in my face
I got some old brown shoes
Got some old brown shoes
I got some old brown shoes
I stomp’em on the floor
I stomp’em on the floor
I just stomp’em on the floor
My boys got an old guitar
Boys got an old guitar
Boys got an old guitar
He loves to bend them strings
He loves to bend them strings
He just loves to bend them strings
I got an old French harp
I got an old French harp
I got an old French harp
It’s in the key of C is the key of C
This song’s in the key of G
I holler and she moans,
I holler and she moans,
I holler and my baby moans
It’s a hellacious sound
It’s a hellacious sound
It’s just one hellacious sound
So you take some pots & pans
You take some pots & pans
You take some pot & pans
You Hit ’em with some sticks
You Hit ’em with some sticks
You Just hit ’em with some sticks
RWH: vocals
Rick Richards: pots and pans, suitcase, shaking some stuff, stomps
George Reiff: bass
Gurf Morlix: acoustic guitar, Mandolin,
Lucas Hubbard: electric guitar
Ray Bonneville: harmonica
Maggie Walters: moans
Written by Ray Wylie Hubbard ©
Published by Snake Farm Publishing (SESAC)
Administered by Bug Music
Tornado Ripe
Tornado Ripe
Mama used to tell me that flies was the devil’s ears and eyes
A nd if you was to see a crow on a chimney, meant someody was fixin’ to die
I looked up on our shack late one day and saw a crow on a stove pipe
I looked up on our shack late one day and saw a crow on a stove pipe
Daddy come runnin’ in said “Gather everybody up, them clouds outside is tornado ripe”
W e was runnin’ to the cellar, when it began to rain and hail
W e was runnin’ to the cellar, when it began to rain and hail
The sky was black and jade now and them clouds had grown a tail
W e was hunkered down in the darkness and outside was a fitful sound
W e was hunkered down in the darkness and outside was a fitful sound
I t was if God hinself was belchin’ and growlin’ and spittin’ on the ground
M ama was cryin’, daddy was cussin’ little sister was just snifflin
M ama was cryin’, daddy was cussin’ little sister was just snifflin
W e come out of that hole in the ground, in all directions of the compass was death and kindlin’
We come out of that hole in the ground, in all directions of the compass was death and kindlin’
RWH: vocal, resonator slide
Seth James: electric guitar
Rick Richards: drums
George Reiff: bass
Written by Ray Wylie Hubbard ©
Snake Farm Publishing (SESAC)
Administered by Bug Music
Whoop and Hollar
Whoop and Hollar
When I rise up out the river knowing my sins been washed away
I’m gonna whoop, I’m gonna hollar
When I rise up out the river knowing my sins been washed away
I’m gonna whoop, I’m gonna hollar
I’m gonna whoop, I’m gonna hollar
I’m gonna rise up a’whoopin’ and a’hollarin’
Rise up a’whoopin’ and a’hollarin
Rise up a whoopn’ and a hollarin’
Rise up, Rise up
When I rise up out of my grave and see my savior’s face
I ‘m gonna whoop, I’m gonna hollar
When I rise up out of my grave and see my savior’s face
I ‘m gonna whoop, I’m gonna hollar
I’m gonna rise up a’whoopin’ and a’hollarin’
Rise up a’whoopin’ and a’hollarin
Rise up a whoopn’ and a hollarin’
Rise up, Rise up
W hen I rise up in God’s empyrean heaven
Flapping my angel wings
I ‘m gonna whoop,I’m gonna hollar
I’m gonna rise up a’whoopin’ and a’hollarin’
Rise up a’whoopin’ and a’hollarin
Rise up a whoopn’ and a hollarin’
Rise up, rise up
RWH: vocals, handclaps
The Trishas: (Jamie Wilson, Savannah Welch, Kelley Mickwee, Liz Foster) vocals, handclaps
Rick Richards: tom drum,
Written by Ray Wylie Hubbard ©
Snake Farm Publishing (SESAC)
Administered by Bug Music
Black Wings
Black Wings
Fly away on them old wings black as they may be
Believing what you leave behind is burnt up and junk debris
And ever last undying soul resides at a hotel in Saint Marie
So fly away on them old wings black as they may be
Fly away on them old wings black as they may be
Shimmerin’ like a Leslie and a Hammond B3
Or a shaking tambourine at a gospel jubilee
So fly away on them old wings black as they may be
Fly away on them old wings black as they may be
Jangling and jingling all the way to Tennessee
Trusting in a Duo Jet and a 9 volt battery
So fly away on them old wings black as they may be
Fly away on them old wings black as they may be
Strumming on a Stella guitar and singing Deportee
Now that ain’t much of a repertoire, oh no siree
So fly away on them old wings black as they may be
Fly away on them old wings black as they may be
You’ll never gonna reach the sun or the Sunset Marquis
You’ll die like a saint on high alongside gamblers and thieves
Fly away on them old wings black as they may be
RWH: vocal, acoustic guitar, harmonica
Billy Cassis: electric guitar
Rick Richards: drums, percussion
Written by Ray Wylie Hubbard ©
Snake Farm Publishing (SESAC)
Administered by Bug Music
Loose
Loose
I went to see her laid out to meet her saints
She was dressed in white low cut silk and lace
Even her mama said she was always trouble
Promise a man everything, give him half and charge him double
We all gonna bust loose one of these days
We all got to stay loose come what may
We all wanna cut loose on payday
Now we ain’t ever gonna break loose of these old rock and roll ways
Now that girl walked like she owned Bourbon Street
And in those days she had grown men kneeling at her feet
She took to an old profession as source of revenue
Now all she’s taking with her is a dress from Saks 5th Avenue
We all gonna bust loose one of these days
We all got to stay loose come what may
We all wanna cut loose on payday
Now we ain’t ever gonna break loose of these old rock and roll ways
She called me up one time and said let’s go get tattoos
I said well lem’me brush my teeth and find my shoes
She come down the street in a stolen Volkswagen
She smiled and said she’d decided on a crimson Chinese dragon
RWH: vocal, acoustic guitar
George Reiff: bass
Rick Richards: drums
David Abeyta: electric guitar
Bukka Allen: organ
Written by Ray Wylie Hubbard 2009 ©
Snake Farm Publishing (SESAC)
Administered by Bug Music
Day of the Dead
Day of the Dead
Sugar, skulls and marigolds
Flowers, thorns and blood
Say a prayer for each of us
Beneath the dust and mud
Everyday is the day of the dead
Everyday is the day of the dead
Thirsty ghosts and twisted bones
Petitions, shrines and feasts
Say a prayer for each of us
Whose souls have been released?
Everyday is the day of the dead
Everyday is the day of the dead
Banned saints and sweet dry bread
Candles, masks and bells
Say a prayer for each of us
Was put in heaven or in hell
RWH: electric slide, vocal
Rick Richards; drums, percussion
Billy Cassis: electric guitar, vocal in Spanish
George Reiff: bass
Written by Ray Wylie Hubbard and Billy Cassis ©
Published by Snake Farm Publishing (SESAC)
Administered by Bug Music