1. |
Boots On
02:18
|
|||
|
Get along, get along little doggies
Oklahoma, here we come
I hear they got a lot of curly-headed women
And I am bound to talk to one
I wanna die with my boots on boots on
Underneath the western sky
When I die, gonna die with my boots on
That’s the only way to go
I ain’t afraid to meet no injuns
They put their britches on just like me
And way back home in Hancock County
My granddaddy married him a Cherokee
I wanna die with my boots on boots on
Underneath the western sky
When I die, gonna die with my boots on
That’s the only way to go
My brother rode with Stonewall Jackson
Ran them Yankees up and down
Me I ride where there ain’t no fences
You can’t get whiskey in a one-horse town
I wanna see me some buffalo buffalo
Way out on the open plains
St. Louis got too many people
And I wanna see some buffalo
I wanna to die with my boots on boots on
Underneath the western sky
When I die, gonna die with my boots on
That’s the only way to go
Yes sir, that’s the way to go
|
||||
2. |
True Blue Baby
03:18
|
|||
|
She’s my true blue baby my only only one
Feeds me milk and gravy she really makes my V8 run
And every single evening sure as the sinking of the sun
I’ll sing this little love song to my only golden one
She’s my true blue baby my only only pearl
Easy to be close to she’s my full-time girl
I bring her tea at morning her smile lights up my day
And when the stars come out there ain’t no doubt my darlin’s here to stay
She’s my true blue baby the one that I adore
I mean to sleep beside her forever evermore
But when that curtain closes and my last song is sung
I’ll still love my true blue baby my only only one
Yeah I love my true blue baby she’s my only only one
|
||||
3. |
Find That Good Thing
02:26
|
|||
|
Well you can laugh, you can cry
Beat your head against the wall til you don’t know why
But if you keep on trying, you know you just might find that good thing
I’m reminded of a story about Mr. Bill Monroe
He said “Son, you got to stay after it, don’t you ever let it go”
And when the water gets high, you got to keep on trying to find that good thing
You might be walking down a busy city street
Drop your ice cream on the sidewalk; you never know who you’ll meet
Sitting home alone feeling like a bump on a log
When Lady Luck rings your bell and she’s grinning like a butcher’s dog
Hallelujah, praise the Lord
Put another ten dollars in that ragged old Ford
And keep on driving you know you just might find that good thing
You might be standing in a matinee line
Just minding your beeswax and biding your time
Here come a tap upon your shoulder and it’s a little old leprechaun
And he puts a four leaf clover in your greasy little hand
Hallelujah, glory be
It’s a long way to Heaven from the bottom of the sea
But if you keep on trying you know you just might find that good thing
You got to keep on driving you know you just might find that good thing
|
||||
4. |
||||
|
Cannons in the distance drums in my chest
Big black clouds rollin’ in from the west
The saints are bowlin’ static in the air
Peter hit a split give Jude a spare
The wind come shiverin’ through the kitchen screen
Like grandaddy’s ghost as the sky turns green
Trees bendin’ as the rain commences
There’ll be water in the bottom land way up on the fences
Oh Lord save us all
We’re prayin’ in the cellar Satan’s shakin’ the walls
This old farm is all we got
Thunder rollin’ ‘cross Arkansas
Hail like a hammer on the nails of a coffin
Every summer it’s a little too often
Never get used to that freight train sound
Chasin’ all God’s children down into the ground
Got the lockbox and the Bible and mamaw’s fiddle
Count the cats and put the baby in the middle
Light a candle with a Zippo turn the radio on
The family’s all here but our courage is gone
Chorus
Serpent come down from the top of the sky
With a peerless venom and a random eye
Reckless and thirsty and out of control
There ain’t now mercy in it’s twisted soul
Chorus
|
||||
5. |
The Last Of Amanda
01:24
|
|||
6. |
There's A Hole
02:36
|
|||
|
There’s a hole in my bed where my woman used to sleep
There’s a hole in my bed where my woman used to sleep
She was the one I swore that I would keep
There’s a hole in my closet where she hung her finest gown
There’s a hole in my closet where she hung her finest gown
I used to be somebody when we were on the town
There’s a hole in my pocket where my good luck used to ride
There’s a hole in my pocket where my good luck used to ride
A single man ain’t ever satisfied
There’s a hole in my bed where my woman used to sleep
|
||||
7. |
Summer Way Down South
02:58
|
|||
|
Mockingbird morning low fog in the fields
Folks in convertible automobiles
Blacktop getting’ hotter than the hinges on the gates of Hell
Might come up a shower of rain but you can’t ever tell
Dogs on the front porch too lazy to run
Fat snake on a flat rock bakin’ in the sun
And that cotton candy air just seems to melt in your mouth
It’s summer way down south
Peaches, tomatoes and sweet potato pie
Fresh lima beans and homemade blackberry wine
Corn on the cob and catfish right out the lake
Got some pineapple upside down cake
Kids in the backyard spittin’ watermelon seeds
With juice on their noses and mud on their knees
And later there’ll be little bare feet up on the couch
It’s summer way down south
The kudzu’s gone and covered up nearly half of the state
Fourlane is bulgin’ with all those out-of-state plates
There’s a fiddle contest over to the county fair
You know that all the oldtimers are bound to be there
That revival tent is rockin’ in the evening still
Sweat pourin’ off the preacher and the people gettin’ chills
It’s been an all-day Sunday dinner on the ground
Now the good ol’ boys are out back getting’ drunk as Cooder Brown
Youguns’ catchin’ june bugs in a jelly jar
Couples getting’ cozy in the back seats of cars
Heat lightnin’ bouncin’ off the nighttime clouds
It’s summer way down south
|
||||
8. |
Broken Bow
03:33
|
|||
|
I live in Broken Bow
And there’s nothing much to do
It’s a hundred miles to nowhere
On a wasted afternoon
And if you’re lookin’ for adventure
You’ve got one tough row to hoe
Twenty-one and stuck in Broken Bow
Nebraska’s got no ocean
And there ain’t no fun in sight
Sadie Weibel’s moved away
And there goes Friday night
Nine ball at the pool hall
Crank up the radio
Twenty-one and stuck in Broken Bow
A six of Bud, a hand-me-down truck
And a rocket in my jeans
My uncle went to Mardi Gras
And got lucky in New Orleans
Ah…but half an hour’s cruise
I’ve seen everyone I know
Twenty-one and stuck in Broken Bow
There’s an airport at Grand Island
But I’ve never been up high
Guess I’ll wear these dusty boots
Until the day I die
And there’s a pissant hill at the edge of town
Where we plant ‘em when they go
They’re gonna lay me down in Broken Bow
Twenty-one and stuck in Broken Bow
|
||||
9. |
Esmeralda
02:32
|
|||
|
Oh Esmeralda
I see you
I see your heart
When it opens wide
I see the snakes come
in all around you
oh can we get to you in time
Oh Esmeralda
you may be poisoned
you may be gone
to the other side
think of your true love
think of your boys then
and return to us tonight
Oh my true love
I have been poisoned
and I’ve seen the snake
the has bitten me
but do not grieve, love
for I have killed him
and that snake I saw
was thee
|
||||
10. |
Letter In The US Mail
01:49
|
|||
|
Went to the mailbox yesterday
There she was between the bills to pay
And the junk from people I don't know
Her school girl script on an envelope
I recognize that hand
Got a letter in the U.S. Mail
Slit the seam with my pocket knife
Drank a chapter of her life
Got a fountain pen at the DAV
Ran right home and wrote to me
I'm a happy boy, yes sir Roy
Got a letter in the U.S. Mail
Read it once, read it twice
Probably gonna read it again tonight
'cause down at the bottom right above her name
The best three words in this living game
I love you
In a letter in the U.S. Mail
Now there's faster ways to be in touch
But they just don't amount to much
Compared to words that's wrote by hand
And sent halfway across the land
At a snail's pace
In a letter in the U.S. Mail
My baby sent me a letter in the U.S. Mail
|
||||
11. |
He Walks Alone
02:35
|
|||
|
I know a man who doesn't know
How to love himself and so
He walks alone, he walks alone
Dusty trail or busy street
Just one shadow and two feet
He walks alone, he walks alone
Freewill Baptists tried to save him
And so did Sister Jones
Crossed his heart and hoped to die
But still he walks alone
Some folks say it's the devil's hand
Others swear it was Vietnam
He walks alone, he walks alone
Freewill Baptists tried to save him
And so did Sister Jones
Crossed his heart and hoped to die
But still he walks alone
When we were children way back when
He'd play in his room for days on end
And now he walks alone, he walks alone
I know a man who doesn't know
How to love himself
And so he walks alone, he walks alone
|
||||
12. |
Papa Joe
03:12
|
|||
|
He was workin’ for you, workin’ for me
While we were workin’ in the factory
Papa Joe, Papa Joe
Good old Papa Joe
Got himself elected up to the hill
To be the voice of the boys at the mill
Papa Joe, Papa Joe
Good old Papa Joe
But politics is a dicey game
Facts and truth ain’t quite the same
Dontcha know Papa Joe, Papa Joe
Party boss said to Papa Joe
You best do what you be told
Papa Joe, Papa Joe, Papa Joe
Joe said “Take your party line
And put it where the sun don’t shine”
Way to go Papa Joe
Good old Papa Joe
They found him right outside of town
In a maple grove where the shot him down
Papa Joe, Papa Joe, Papa Joe
Poured his ashes in Miller Creek
Preacher cried when he tried to speak for
Papa Joe, Papa Joe
Poor old Papa Joe
He had gumption he had brass
Stood up straight for the working class
Papa Joe, Papa Joe
Good old Papa Joe
|
||||
13. |
Chilly Winds
03:12
|
|||
|
Well, I'm goin' where the chilly winds, the chilly winds don't blow
Goin' where the chilly winds don't blow
Goin' where the chilly winds, the chilly winds don't blow
Goin' to my long lonesome long lonesome home
Headed for my long lonesome home
Well, I'm goin' where the water tastes, the water tastes like wine
Goin' where the water tastes like wine
Goin' where the water tastes the water tastes like wine
Goin' to my long lonesome long lonesome home
Headed for my long lonesome home
Well, I'm goin' where the weather suits, the weather suits my clothes
Goin' where the weather suits my clothes
Goin' where the weather suits the weather suits my clothes
Goin' to my long lonesome long lonesome home
Headed for my long lonesome home
Well, I'm goin' where the chilly winds, the chilly winds don't blow
Goin' where the chilly winds don't blow
Goin' where the chilly winds, the chilly winds don't blow
Goin' to my long lonesome long lonesome home
Headed for my long lonesome home
Headed for my long lonesome home
|
||||
14. |
True Blue Baby Reprise
00:58
|
|||
15. |
Keep The Faith
02:35
|
|||
|
When poets dream, the bedposts shake
And the rest of us follow in their wake
When the fiddler leaves, the dancing stops
And every New Year’s Eve that big ball drops
Some things just are and some things will be
I don’t understand, it’s a mystery
But one thing I know and I believe it’s true
You gotta have faith, it’ll see you through
I’m on a lonesome walk and I’ve got no shoes
Got no choice, I cannot refuse
Where I’ll go, I cannot say
And as for when it could be any day
Some things just are and some things will be
I don’t know, it’s a mystery
But one thing’s for sure and I swear it’s true
You gotta have faith, it’ll see you through
Keep the faith, it’ll see you through
|
||||
Victor Anthony British Columbia
Nashville native Victor Anthony has made his living around the edges of the art world since 1985, working as a musician, actor, and photographer, occasionally all in the same week. His style is firmly based in the roots tradition of the American South. Victor and his wife Joëlle make their home in BC's Gulf Islands and he's looking forward to exploring Canada with suitcase and guitar in hand. ... more
If you like Victor Anthony, you may also like:
Meet Me at the River
by Dawn Landes
On “Meet Me By the River,” Dawn Landes’s self-described “Nashville record,” buoyant country melodies settle deep into lush instrumentation.
go to album
Gorgeous fingerstyle guitar playing from this Portland, Oregon musician that captures the spirit of American Primitive in dazzling detail.
go to album
Tides of a Teardrop
by Watchhouse (formerly Mandolin Orange)
The forthcoming album from Mandolin Orange blends rustic Americana melodies with aching, orchestral arrangements.
go to album
A student of Robbie Basho in the ’60s, this American Primitive guitarist continues to deliver gentle, beautiful playing.
go to album
Sunrise : Bill MacKay Plays The Songs of John Hulburt
by Bill MacKay
Renowned experimental folk artist takes a faithful pass at the songs of John Hulburt's private press LP, Opus III.
go to album
Ruth's sophomore release explores sacred signs against a backdrop of folk melodies and acoustic guitar.
go to album
I Need to Start a Garden
by Haley Heynderickx
featured on Bandcamp Radio Apr 10, 2018
go to album
