Tell the Devil I'm Gettin' There as Fast as I Can
God Looked Around
God Looked Around
Written by Ray Wylie Hubbard
Snake Farm Publishing (SESAC)
Administered by BMG/Chrysalis
God looked around
Didn’t see nothing
Said, ‘well, shucks let there be light’
So up come the sun
Bright as all get out
Then he split it up into day & night
God looked around
Wasn’t much to look at
So he fabricated heaven and earth
So now there’s solid ground
Divvied up by the waters
Said well there it is for what its worth
He gave wings to birds
So they’d fly in the air
And legs for critters walking on the ground
Allocated fish to the water
And beasts to the fields
And creeping things to crawl around
God looked around
Didn’t see no one
Reached down and picked up some dust
Then he spit on it
Kneaded it like bread dough
And a man rose up full-grown as such
God looked at this man
Saw he was lonely
Said go to sleep, guess I ain’t done
He pried out one of his ribs
Slapped some hide around it
There was two now where once there’s one
He gave it some curves
And lips red as cherries
And ravishing curly raven hair
The man he woke up
And looked at the woman
Said good oh lord you done answered my prayers
Now things was righteous
When a snake walked up
Said hey women take a bite of this
You’ll be smart as God
And you’ll live forever
You’d be foolish to resist
The woman said no way
‘Don’t eat from that tree,”
Those was God’s very own words
Oh but the snake sweet talked her
And the woman took a bite
Then realized she’s naked as a jaybird
The woman went to the man
And he took a taste
I’m undraped he proclaimed
They heard God a coming
And they went and hid
Cause they was naked and ashamed
Well God found ’em
Said you ate forbidden fruit
The woman cried the snake duped me I was tempted
God said I told not to
And since you disobeyed
Your time in paradise is ended
So God cast ’em out
Dooming us all to die
That’s why its the way it is
God said to the snake
You done talking and walking
That’s why to this day they slither and hiss
Dead Thumb King
Dead Thumb King
Written by Ray Wylie Hubbard
Snake Farm Publishing (SESAC)
Administered by BMG/Chrysalis
I got some dirt from Lightnin’ Hopkins grave
And some bones from an old black crow
Got a rattle snake tail inside my guitar
Got a mullein cigarette & double six domino
I got a mercury dime and a 2 dollar bill
And a bouquet of nine black roses
Got 4 thieves vinegar in a mason jar
And I swear by the seven books of Moses
Got an Indian head penny made in a leap year
Took in a mean eyed cat I named her Snakebite
Red devil lye’s buried at the 4 corners of my house
Got a mouth harp throw’d away by Charlie Musselwhite
That’s working the root at the crossroads
Is bona fide conjuring as all get out
Stand aside less qualified
I am the dead thumb king lest ye doubt
I drink jimson weed, sulphur and honey
I never cut my hair in broad daylight
I wash my hands in two jacks extract
Come dark I light a candle to Saint Expedite
I got a rooster claw nailed to my front door
And a prayer candle on my window sill
I sleep with a woman who can cuss in French
She spins a pinwheel of feathers and daffodils
Spider, Snaker, Little Sun
Spider, Snaker, Little Sun
Written by Ray Wylie Hubbard
Snake Farm Publishing (SESAC)
Administered by BMG/Chrysalsi
Spider, Snaker, Little Sun
Spider, Snaker , Little Sun
Koener, Ray and Glover
Koener Ray and Glover
Spider John Koener
Dave Snaker Ray
Tony “Little Sun” Glover
They ain’t no others
Do blues rags and hollers
Like Spider, Snaker Little Sun
Minneapolis, Minnesota
Minneapolis, Minnesota
Dinky town, dinky town
At the 10 o’clock scholar
Was blues rags and hollers
By Koerner, Ray and Glover
Spider Snaker little sun
Koener, ray and Glover
Most nightclubs didn’t know how many of ’em show up so sign in window say Koener and or ray and or Glover
Some times they just get loaded and go on stage
Do blues rags and hollers
Wasn’t doing it for the dollars
Wasn’t no clean-cut folk group
Heavy into Leadbelly and big Joe Williams
Ripped the Kingston Trio to shreds
spider snaker little sun
Looked like sinister low key criminals
Spider Snaker, Little Sun
Spider, Snaker, Little Sun
Koener, Ray and Glover
Spider John Koerner
Dave Snaker Ray
Tony Little Sun Glover
I am much obliged to you for inspiring me to go down this road.
Lucifer and the Fallen Angels
Lucifer and the Fallen Angels
Written by Ray Wylie Hubbard
Snake Farm Publishing (SESAC)
Administered by BMG/Chrysalis
I run over a squirrel in Arkansas blood wasn’t even dry
When I see a few fallen angels and Lucifer trying to hitch a ride
I pull over they jump in, Lucifer says how far’s mobile
I say don’t rightly know, I’m going to Nashville to get a publishing deal
And the fallen angels just laugh
Call me Lou” Lucifer said now listen don’t take this wrong
Ain’t no body in that town is gonna publish your songs
You cool but you old, they don’t want that Snake Farm groove and grit
And you didn’t make no money even though badass Paul Thorn recorded it
And the fallen angels just laugh
I said that’s cold you’re worthy of your reputation for being evil
Ain’t no need to sugar coat it he said unless you in St. Patrick’s cathedral
Anyhow how bout it, you driving us down to mobile
We’ll pay for gas, buy you a lottery ticket and a Tibetan prayer wheel
And the fallen angels just laugh
Might as well I said if you tell me bout gettin’ kicked out of heaven
Lou says sure first stop at a package store and lets get a bottle of Seagram’s 7
I pull in to Nervous Charlie’s fireworks and all night liquor store
Lou gets out, pulls out a gun, puts on a ski and walks through the door
And the fallen angels just laugh
I hear a couple of shots and Lou comes running back
He says make like Ray Charles and hit the road jack
I pull out almost wrecking and make it to the highway somehow
Lou says how you think that clerk likes ”take your sons to work day” now
The fallen angels just laugh
I’m a persona non grata now barreling down the highway
Lou takes a sip of Seagram’s says that heaven fiasco well ain’t much to say
I started a small rebellion never thinking I’d end up hell bound
The sole reason was I just got tired of God dogging me around
And the fallen angels just laugh
Lou said I saw you on Jimmy Fallon singing Drunken Poets Dream
So why go to Nashville knowing you’ll can’t ever be mainstream
Go to somewhere like Texas where they dig roots and blues and country that’s real
Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven that’s why I’m going to mobile
And the fallen angels just laugh
Open G
Open G
Written by Ray Wylie Hubbard
Snake Farm Publishing (SESAC)
Administered by BMG/Chrysalis
Take the low e sting and the high e
Tune ’em both down to d
Then take the a string and tune it down to g
Now the d g and b strings, just leave ’em be
Now what you got is is called open g
Guitar is tuned to d g d g b d
Lay your finger cross the 5th fret that chord was a c
Lay it on the 7th fret you got your d
There’s a guitar called a resonator cause it resonates
Some are made of wood some of metal both reverberates
Now take a glass or brass slide that’s the right weight
Take that slide and shake the jelly on the plate
White Rose Bouquet
White Rose Bouquet
Written by Ray Wylie Hubbard
Snake Farm Publishing (SESAC)
Administered by BMG/Chrysalis
There was a time I was wild young and handsome
Smoking cigarettes when i’s thirteen
At seventeen I was drinking in the taverns
With Irish poets, raconteurs and libertines
At twenty-one I was a full time gambler
A card squeezer who blistered the bee
I carried a 32 20 in my pocket
Heeded not the gamblers fallacy
Thereupon I was asked to be a procurer
By a young woman of desire named Olivia Mae
So for mutual financial benefits
We opened the house of the white rose bouquet
Olivia was a beauty and quite flirtatious
And enjoyed the company of rakish men
Yet we fell deeply in love with each other
And prospered in our house of ill repute and sin
Even though I was in love with Olivia
There were other girls and indiscretion
A patron of the house was a physician
Gave me a cure for my transgression
One night olive found my hidden blue bottle
With tablets shaped like coffins inside
She mistook them for opiate narcotics
And swallowed the mercury chloride
How my heart died when I found her
In her green beaded dress dead on the floor
After her service I cocked the 32 20
For I could not take the sorrow any more
Now the house of the white rose bouquet
Fell into disarray and was torn down
The place is now a beckon of decency
Tell the Devil I’m Gettin’ There as Fast as I Can
Tell The Devil I’m Gettin’ There As Fast As I Can
Written by Ray Wylie Hubbard
Snake Farm Publishing (SESAC)
Administered by BMG/Chrysalis
Screaming in a mic, playing a Strat thro a Vox ac30
Gives a troublesome back and a ringing in the ears
My last band covered the Clash, The Kinks & The Replacements
Seems my soul is as misspent as my years
Now I got a Princeton Reverb in an old Anvil case
It’s in the back of a Ford Econoline
It’s a 6-hour drive to Austin and the Continental Club
I got to change the strings on my ES 335
Tell the devil I’m getting there as fast as I can
Playing an sunburst Gibson in an alt country band
And loving a woman who can out cuss any man
Tell the devil I’m getting there as fast as I can
I met her in L.A we was opening for Son Volt
She had eyes mascaraed like Eva Greens
She sparkled with wildness like the blue yonder
She’d done her time in darkness and was two years clean
She wears an old leather jacket made by Irish saints
And boots engraved with skulls and thorns
She got her ink in Tulsa still she don’t like red dirt bands
Being in love with her is like living in a thunderstorm
Now the faithless live in grays and faded purples
And the gamblers never bet of twelve’s or twos
The drunken poets disappear into deep shadows
And the rock and roll believers sing the easy rider blues
Tell the devil I’m getting there as fast as I can
Playing an sunburst Gibson in an alt country band
And loving a woman who can out cuss any man
Tell the devil I’m getting there as fast as I can
The Rebellious Son
The Rebellious Sons
Written by Ray Wylie Hubbard
Snake Farm Publishing (SESAC)
Administered by BMG/Chrysalis
The rebellious sons were born from the tears of the gods
Kneeling in the dust before the banner of the serpent and mouse
Their captain was turned to stone and his voice was heard no more
He is still on his knees outside the raven witches house
Treachery befell the oldest son before the sails were tacked
He’d come to kill the witch’s queen but stumbled and was seen
Mocked by his captors, he died loyal to his gods
Refusing to confess, he recited Genesis 4:15
An Asia Minor poet who was loyal to the sons
His gods had been exiled; he vowed to avenge the disgrace
He came to the court of the queen who’d betrayed them
As he drew his dagger he cried out “How does gold taste?”
Fate decides our life span by measuring out thread and then cutting it
The gate to hell was left open and there’s little concern in shutting it
Unworthy to wear jewelry, the whore queen dressed in jade
Born under the seventh sign, her sins can’t be forgiven
She betrayed the sons in the Sicilian vespers war
Yet her bones were buried with pageant by the old river prison
The queen was slain while drinking a cup of her savior’s blood
They laid her out to be viewed dressed only in white lilies
Covered in ivory she was as false as Constantine’s donation
Destiny cannot be bribed as proven by the death of Achilles
Fate decides our life span by measuring out thread and then cutting it
The gate to hell was left open and there’s little concern in shutting it
Prayer
Prayer
Written by Ray Wylie Hubbard
Snake Farm Publishing (SESAC)
Administered by BMG/Chrysalis
Sometimes I puzzle about the spiritual
And why fear and trembling’s always round
Seems the last time God pitched in down here
Was when pharaoh and his army was drowned
When I seek to unravel the sacred
I get perplexed and over whelmed
I’m not in tune with the ecclesiastical
Can’t get a fix on the ethereal realm
When all is lost and we have no courage
And self reliance ain’t gonna get us through
The old folks say well now all we can do is pray
Ah perhaps that’s the best thing we can do
I am not profound or perceptive
Most times I don’t know what I’m saying
It’s likely God don’t need to hear my prayers
I just need to hear me praying
In Times of Cold
In Times of Cold
Written by Ray Wylie Hubbard
Snake Farm Publishing (SESAC)
Administered by BMG/Chrysalis
The dying saints held their faith
With blood stained prayers
The wicked gods gave the poets
Regret and despair
Now some ruffians and even grifters
Can fall in love with no hesitation
Whether with harlots or virgins
Is no guarantee of salvation
When I plead my cause before the court of heaven
Before I likely take my place in hell
The regrets I’ll own forever:
I’ll not see my love again
And in times of cold she’ll be alone as well
My scrapes were not lethal
My crimes mostly purloined schemes
She prayed for my atonement
Some souls can’t be redeemed
A violet leaves its fragrance
When tread on by a heel
So when I come to where all light is gone
Her essence will be with me still