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