He was born in Oklahoma. And his wife's name is Betty Lou Thelma Liz. He's not responsible for what he's doing. His mother made him what he is. . And it's up against the wall, redneck mother.
Pat Garvey. . Well somewhere the sun today's soakin' up a cornfield dry. But it's shining a love song on some snowy clouds. And I know my fingerprints will be brushed away.
Chris Wall. . Well I was raised in a sophisticated kind of style. But my taste in music and women drove my folks half wild. Mom and Dad had a plan for me, it was debutantes and symphonies.
Michael Martin Murphey. . From my window shadows of the buildings in the night. Run like a river, broken only by city lights. Running like a thousand whispered lines.
Going gray around the temples. Usually days when I won't shave. Have a, have a trip over ripples. And watching them roll in to waves. . I've been too long riding this range.
Jerry Jeff Walker. . This song is a letter sung to a special friend of mine. One who stopped his singing somewhere back along the line. I wondered if he'd had enough of the rip-offs and the jive.
Jerry Jeff Walker. . This is a time to be cautious; this is a time to be smart. This is a time to consider the options, be careful with games of the heart.
Keith Sykes. . We were wild and young and willing, to give up anything it took. To get to where we were going, you could read us like a book. Our nights were hot, filled with a lot, of lovers and dreams and songs.
Come gather around me friends. I'll tell you about a minstrel band. Of children in their witches hats. Painting pictures with pipes of pan. . A young boy and his sister.
Jerry Jeff Walker. . If I took a rollin' wheel. And rolled it ten times round. Would it travel far from here. Or would it just go round. Round and Round.
Django Walker. . Skinny young kid who sits in the back of the class. Nobody knows his name, nobody cares to ask. They just sit up front and tell him he won't go far.
Jerry Jeff Walker. . Let me tell you a little story about a trip I made to Mexico, with some friends. Of mine that had a pocket full of Mauis and some bad intentions.....
She's fixed in his mind like the picture. He's kept in his wallet for years. The image, it's never been tarnished. By the blood, sweat and tears. And after all of these years now.
So that's where my head was at. In a book and a funky hat. On the road with Kerouac. Searching for the truth. . Sometimes I'm amazed. Looking back at a certain phase.
Jerry Jeff Walker. . In a boarding house, I'd lay upstairs,. And dream of how I'd live someday. Downstairs there sat, a man who had. A guitar he never learned to play.
Yeah a mile around the bend down the Ohio. Comin up the river for the Sunday show. There's a tuba and a banjo and a steam calliope. Sittin on the deck of the big paddlewheel.
The Dutchman's not the kind of man. To keep his thumb jammed in a dam. That holds his dreams in. But that's a secret only Margaret know. . But when Amsterdam is golden.
I guess it all started, the day my brand new car wouldn't. So I took it to this dealer Recommended as a good'un. He told me four hundred bucks would fix it.
Well, he's eight years old he's got a flour sack cape. Tied all around his neck. He's climbing up on top of the garage. He's figurin what the heck. . He screws his courage up so darn tight.
The cycle of life is here to see. In all its fine simplicity. But the way we live it seems to be. Something very weird to me and I cry out. . Pettiness like lady's chatter.