©1998-2008 B. Isbell
This is a fairly complete collection of all of the songs that I have written over the past ten years, my first ten years as a songwriter. Some good, some mediocre, a few great ones and sometimes a magic one--the kind the gods of songwriting just reach out and compel you to write, the kind which just spill out of your soul and on to the paper, the kind that might live on forever.
While I’ve got personal demo recordings of almost all of these songs, only about 25 or so have been publicly released. All these lyrics are copyright protected. Not every song I’ve written over the past 10 years has been included, since I’ve just lost some over the years and there are a few others that just frankly aren’t worth mentioning. Of course, that’s the case with every good writer, not every attempt yields a gem, so don’t get discouraged; I hope this collection encourages you to open up your soul to receive and write down the gems the muses send your way. I hope something I’ve written touches you, helps you, provokes you, makes you think or see something from a different perspective, stirs your soul or tears, makes you laugh or even say “hell, yeah.”
Finally, just for fun, I’ve included notes about each of the songs discussing my take on the meaning, or what inspired me to write the song, or other fun facts behind the writing of the song.
Peace and lots of love,
B. Isbell
P.S.—I’m actually cool with anybody writing their own musical arrangement to any of my lyrics, as long as you give me 50% of both the songwriting and publishing copyrights, and send me a copy of the finished song (both the chart and recording) and registration. Let’s co-write!
All I Can Do
©2004 B. Isbell
Confusion sets over the valley,
Watching the snow take the fall,
I feel so alone in this darkness,
Alone, but absorbing it all.
Lord, I want to fly, fly so high,
Chasing the wind and riding the sky,
I want to fly, fly so high,
For you, it’s all I can do, it’s all I can do.
Next day at dawn and I’m still hungry,
All my traps failed again,
Lord I guess I’ve got to go fishin’,
For whatever this old world sends.
Lord, I want to fly, fly so high,
Chasing the wind and riding the sky,
I want to fly, fly so high,
For you, it’s all I can do.
Lord, I want to fly,
Chasing the wind right through the sky,
I want to fly, fly so high,
For you, it’s all I can do,
Lord, it’s all I can do.
Note—I love this little song and the sentiment expressed is very personally true.
American Love Song
©2006 B. Isbell
I don’t want to be un-American, but I don’t want to be an American Idol (2x)
Politicians like to have their fun,
O.P.M. and lots of guns,
Sell us peace, but buy us war,
And I can’t take it anymore,
I don’t want to be un-American, but I don’t want to be an American Idol (2x)
[And Simon the Cowell he don’t like all that country now (2x)]
If you don’t like my colors,
then you don’t like yourself,
If you don’t like my friend’s color,
then you don’t like yourself.
And I don’t want to be un-American, but I don’t want to be an American Idol,
Yeah, I don’t want to be un-American, but I don’t want to be an American Idol.
You want your weed to die,
I want my weed to live (2x)
Four thousand soldiers dead,
How many more must die?
Note—Ok, so I was watching American Idol one night and had a fun idea, which turned
into a killer riff, and I guess I was riled up by political lies, the war, and discrimination.
Any Time He Can
©2007 B. Isbell
Got me a husband, Lord, he’s one hard workin’ man,
Got me a husband, Lord, he’s one hard workin’ man,
Yeah, he love to mow my lawn, any time he can.
Got me a real big lover, Lord, he go down sweet,
Got me a real big lover, Lord, he go down sweet,
& when he gets home from workin’, man he love to eat.
Got me a plumber, always workin’ on my pipes,
Got me a plumber, always workin’ on my pipes,
He’s always sayin’ baby, Lord, your pipe is tight.
Had me a carpenter baby, always bangin’ on his wood,
Had me a carpenter baby, always bangin’ on his wood,
He’d always ask me for a hand, now, I’d help him when I could.
Said I'm a damn good cook now, y'all that ain't no lie,
Said I'm a damn good cook now, y'all that ain't no lie,
Got 'em lining up for miles around, just to taste my pie!
Note—I wrote this blues tune for my friend Miss Blues, an awesome singer and cook!
Blues Before Christmas
©2000 B. Isbell
I’ve got the blues before Christmas, I got those blues deep down in my soul,
Yeah, I’ve got the blues before Christmas, I got those blues deep down in my soul,
‘cause I ain’t got no one to love me and I ain’t got no place to go.
You know, I got my shares of troubles, and Lord, they weigh heavy on my mind,
You know, I got my shares of troubles, and Lord, they weigh heavy on my mind,
‘cause I ain’t got no money, so Santa, he just fly on by.
Christmas is the season when you(‘re) s’pose to love somebody even more,
Christmas is the season when you(‘re) s’pose to love somebody even more,
But it’s gon’na be a blue Xmas at my house ‘cause there ain’t no mistletoe hangin’ over my door.
I’ve got the blues before Christmas, I got those blues deep down in my soul,
Yeah, I’ve got the blues before Christmas, I got those blues deep down in my soul,
‘cause Christmas time is coming, and I ain’t got nobody to love,
‘cause Christmas time is coming y’all, and I ain’t got nobody to love me,
… ‘xcept the Lord above.
Note—Wrote this song for my friend Joe Jonas, a great harp player with one hell of a set of pipes. I break this one out when the Christmas holidays are approaching. Christmas is one of those holidays that isn’t quite as fun without someone to share with; hope you have someone.
Breathe
©2001 B. Isbell
A blue picture of you left behind leaving me,
Hanging on the wall, out there for all to see,
A golden flame, an opaque reality,
A spirit’s flame reflecting back at me.
Full moon falling, but you can’t hold me down,
And as your darkness calls, I scream but not out loud,
But you’re still holding on, I can hear you calling me,
Yeah, you’re still holding on, to a love not meant to be,
Why won’t you let me breathe?
All I want to do is breathe.
You’re always spinning your webs, casting out your lies,
When will you realize your nets kill the butterflies,
You swallow me whole with all your pent-up doubts,
But even you should know, I’d rather swim than drown.
And you can't hold me down.
But you’re still holding on, I can hear you calling me,
And you’re still holding on, holding on so desparately,
Yeah, you’re still holding on, to a love not meant to be,
Why won’t you let me breathe?
All I want to do is breathe …
Yeah, all I want to do is breathe.
Note—Brigette Miller and I formed Naked Eats Violet in 2003 or so. Her current and former projects were named Naked Violet. I was inspired to write this song for her, but turned out to be a better song for me. I think she was telling me about her love life one day. We got selected for the New Music Festival in Dallas and then she kicked me out of the band a week before the showcase. We’re still good friends these days, however. And I still love her voice.
Brown-Skin Woman
©2005 B. Isbell
Brown-skin woman, she don’t tell no lies,
Brown-skin woman, she don’t tell no lies,
Way it is now, don’t need no alibis.
Brown-skin woman, she make love ‘til dawn,
Brown-skin woman, she make love ‘til dawn,
Gon’na go home now, hope she gives me some.
Gon’na dance, gon’na party all night long,
Gon’na dance, gon’na party all night long,
Brown-skin woman, sure can have some fun.
Brown-skin woman, she don’t tell no lies,
Brown-skin woman, she don’t tell no lies,
Make a man’s home just like a paradise.
Note—I was trying to write an old-style blues song in E, that goes to the IV chord (A) in the verses, and came up with a good one here. Reminds me of Clapton and I can see him playing it. I used to love to dance with the African-American girls in college. They seem to have a passion for life that shows up in everything they do. And they sure know how to party and make love!
Cages
©2001 B. Isbell
You’re always there, always watching me,
Controlling my world, & all you want me to be,
My every move, under constant scrutiny,
Cages you create, no escape I see,
There’s no escape for me
You’re in my radio, you’re on my MTV,
Dead set in your aim, drawing down on me,
You’re in my head right now, checkin’ up on me,
You’re eyes are everywhere, nothin’ you don’t see,
I live in cages, No escape for me,
I live in cages, No escape I see,
I live in cages
Change the weather, rain right down on me
Bring your lightnin’ on, stir your darkest seas
Kill me with your love, push me to be free
Lock up all your doors, & throw away your keys,
I live in cages, No escape for me,
I live in cages, No escape I see,
I live in cages, No escape I need,
I live in cages
Can you escape from me? (2x)
Note—well, can you?
Camille
(aka The Little Filthy Skank)
©2003 B. Isbell
I know a girl who's as sweet as sweet can be,
She plays drums in a band for Johnny T,
She's a filthy skank, but that's alright with me,
But Johnny don't give that girl just what she needs,
Oh no, ... I hear her say, Oh no, ... he doesn't satisfy me
I know a boy named Bradley with a B,
He drinks beer and watches my TV,
He like to date a girl who calls herself Miss T,
but she doesn't give that Bradley what he needs,
Oh no, ... I hear him say, Oh no, ... she doesn't satisfy me
I know a Joe who tickles all the keys,
He sees in color but me he cannot see,
the little filthy skank like to bring the Joe the weed,
but she couldn't even give a blind man what he needs,
Oh no, ... I hear him say, Oh no, ... she doesn't satisfy me
Mom, I got to give that girl just what she needs (3x)
She got to satisfy me
C • A • M • I • L • L • E (2x)
Oh no, Oh no, Oh no, ... Oh, NO
Note—mostly true story about the drummer in my short-lived, but very cool first real band, called Popesoldier. Popesoldier recorded a demo of this song which appears as a bonus track on The Dead Prophets Bonus Edition (released in 2006) which is still my favorite version.
Christmas Is Coming
©2003-2007 B. Isbell
When I was a child I remember that Christmas was one of my favorite days,
I could just barely contain my excitement, for Christmas is coming today!
I heard the bells on the sleigh as they jingled, say Christmas is coming today!
Twinkling lights and sweet sentiment greetings, said Christmas is coming today!
Bridge:
But lately it seems that Christmas is coming for all the wrong reasons,
and the wonder of Christmas has been simplified to a sale and a cheap holiday.
Christmas is coming before hobs and goblins, is Christmas is still coming our way?
We’ve barely had time to dress out the turkey, is Christmas is still coming our way?
The stores are all brimming and registers jingle, is Christmas is still coming our way?
We all know prophet/profit has more than one meaning, is Christmas is still coming our way?
Musical Bridge
I’m hearing the bells on top of Saint Peter’s, say Christmas is coming today!
Angels preparing our Father to meet us, sing Christmas is coming today!
The snow on the ground of our Mother beneath us, says Christmas is coming today!
I think of the wonderous love sent to greet us, and Christmas is coming today!
Peace on earth, goodwill to men, I hear all the angels pray,
Peace on earth, goodwill to men, for Jesus was born today!
Note—It’s aggravating that the Christmas displays go up before Halloween these days, but I guess it’s a free market. I choose to celebrate Christmas for the right reason. God bless.
Cobainity
©2003 B. Isbell
Why are you always haunting me?
I sit still and drink your tea, and read your leaves.
Why are you always haunting me?
I’m not the only one who can see you, or be with you.
Grist, in your brain, Cobainity,
Kruel, love in pain, Cobainity.
Why are you still haunting me?
Inhuman fame is never free, die for me.
All the Love you ever need,
Is Courting her own destiny, die for she … Die!
How can you just up and leave us?
Where is your insanity, astrally?
How can you write but never read?
Words become your enemies, to be,
Grist, in your brain, Cobainity,
Kruel, love’s insane, Cobainity.
And all you leave behind is the tea (3x)
Cobain-i-tea.
Note—This song is about Kurt Cobain (duh!). The words “Grist” and “Kruel” in the chorus section are plays on the names of Dave Grohl and Kris Novaselic, as is “Love” aka Courtney. I love the final line—“All you leave behind is the tea.” So true, so true.
Drunkards & Losers
©2009 Beth Isbell
My Daddy told me that drunkards are losers
Who bury their head in the sand
So I found a bottle, dead set on disproving
All of his (or- the) wisdom I can
Now all of my life I’ve been drinking to excess
To kill all the pain I can kill
But I lost it all to that old whiskey bottle
Except for these songs I distill
Bridge:
(and) There ain’t no reason for drunks to be winners
It ain’t like the rest of you care,
It’s just that I’ve still got living to do yet,
And Lord knows I’m gonna get there
Chorus:
I’m gonna ride … on an angel
I’m gonna ride … on a song
I’m gonna sing … till I just can’t sing no more
And God come(s) to carry me home
Solo
(now) My Momma sent me some money for rehab
And I spent it all at the bar
‘Cause just ain’t no sense in you trying to alter
What everyone else knows you are
Repeat Chorus (3x)
Out: Repeat Bridge … change last line:
And Lord knows I’m gonna prevail!
Note--Saw Ben Kweller on Letterman ... and thought to myself ... hell, I can do that! Ben's a great writer & performer, ... but then again, so am I!
, This is sort of an uptempo traditional country spiritual ... ala June Carter Cash. Similar in style to "I'll Fly Away" or those kinds of traditional songs ... Took me about an hour from first thought to finished ... I just love it when they fall out like that! yeah, it's just a simple three chord song, but a damn good one ... & btw so are a lot of the great classics ...A Father’s Love
©1998-2007 B. Isbell
Have you seen a cactus flower open wide on Christmas day?
It reminds me of my childhood home, I can hear my Daddy say,
“Now, gather ‘round here Children, let me tell you a little tale,
about a cactus flower and a love that will never fail.”
A long, long way from home he was waiting on a ride,
got no money, got no job, he’s still got his pride,
And as he walked on down the road that wint’ry Christmas day,
He saw a little cactus flower and he heard his family pray.
Back at home my Mom and me strung some popcorn on the tree,
(and) we hung our Christmas stockings for Santa Claus to see,
then Mama smiled, and said to me, “Santa may not come this year,
but Dad and I love you very much, let’s hope he’ll soon be here.”
He headed home with just the clothes upon his back,
And in his hand was a torn green Christmas sack.
And he said, “Forgive me Son, I have nothing for you today,
but this little cactus flower, and a love that will never fail.”
When God made a cactus flower, I wonder did he know,
(that) my Dad would one day find it there while walking in the snow?
And I wonder if he watched from above on that special Christmas day,
if he could see my Mama’s tears of joy at the way me and Daddy played?
A Father’s love is full of strength and protection,
but on that day I felt his warmth and affection.
And I pray to God “Dear Son, as your wings begin to set sail,
when you see a cactus flower, you’ll find my love in this small tale.”
And I wonder if both God and Dad, can see us here today,
and our little cactus flower, and a love … that will never fail.
Note—Corny? Maybe, but I don’t think so. It’s actually a cute story weaving together the Southwest traditional legend about Christmas cactuses blooming on Christmas day and the boundless love a Father has for his son, or daughter, and that the Father above has for us!
Which, if you think about it, is actually the very essence of what Christmas is about.
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$50 & a Cigarette
©2001 B. Isbell
People in politics are so devout, what they’re saying must be true,
They PAC their warchests, you can’t vote ‘em out, and put the blame on you,
Lottery people keep sellin’ you out, sayin’ there’s one in a million for you,
So why are children still without, when are their winnings due?
I’ve got $50 if you call their bet, and $50 more to sing ‘em this song,
And I’ve got $50 & a cigarette, if you can prove me wrong.
Network man would you let us teach your kids from programs you’ve OK’d,
Will your profits cure all the damage you’ve done to families you’ve betrayed?
I’ve got $50 if you call their bet, and $50 more to sing ‘em this song,
And I’ve got $50 & a cigarette, if you can prove me wrong.
Hey weapons man when you’re selling your scuds, do you keep your money clean,
Do you first wash off all your victims blood, is your big pile obscene?
Hey Mr. Leader when we go to war, will you send your daughters first?
And what lies will you tell us when you’ve only made things worse?
I’ve got $50 if you call their bet, and $50 more to sing ‘em this song,
And I’ve got $50 & a cigarette, if you can prove me wrong.
Do you buy your death in a cardboard box to make yourself look cool,
While they count your money, buy another ‘Vette, and play you for the fool?
I’ve got $50 if you call their bet, and $50 more to sing ‘em this song,
And I’ve got $50 & a cigarette, if you can prove me wrong. (2x)
Yeah, and I’ve got $50 & a cigarette …
Note—Title cut on my first official four song demo EP released in 2004. Inspired by something my good friend Paul Woodford said. He’s a Scot with a European view of American politics. My view is that lots of folks in power sell us out for their own personal gain. If you call their bet, I’ve still got $50 and a Cigarette, and they’ll still have their claws in you.
Fireflies
© 2006 B. Isbell
When I look out at night, I see the fireflies, lightly dancing in the sand,
& when I’m sinking low, I reap just what I sow, I can see your outstretched hands,
& I can see, you’re dancin’ in the night,
& I just want to be with all my little fireflies.
I see your fire light, it keeps me warm at night, and gives me reasons to go on,
Got me rockin’ now, I see your souls somehow, makes me want to sing my song,
Floating into space, when love is commonplace, and emotions are profound,
All your dreams fulfilled, and everybody’s chilled, becoming one within the sound,
& I can see, you’re dancin’ in the night,
& I just want to be with all my little fireflies.
& I can see, you’re dancin’ in the night,
& I just want to be with all my little fireflies.
& I can see, the fires burning bright,
& I just want to be with all my little fireflies.
Note—I was imagining what it would be like to play to a stadium full of 25,000 fans chilling out to the music and holding up their lighters and had the thought that all those lighters would probably look like fireflies from stage. I used to love to catch fireflies growing up. Still waiting to fulfill this vision. You never know.
Funeral Song
©2007 B. Isbell
(Dedicated to the loving memory of
my Grandfather William C. Minyard)
Bullet casings in a folded flag & tears that last for days,
And thoughts of you so wonderful in a hundred special ways,
And all you lived & all you loved are shining brightly now,
And all the dreams you sacrificed live on in me somehow,
My one wish for you, my friend, as you take to the sky,
Is that the love you gave to me, can help my favorite angel,
learn to fly.
For all your love & sacrifice, your country honors you today,
Lord, carry off our sorrow, on the song that trumpet plays,
For all you lived & all you loved, all shine so brightly now,
And all the dreams you gave to us will carry on somehow,
And my one wish for you, my friend, as you take to the sky,
Is that the love you gave to me, can help my favorite angel,
learn to fly.
Note—I wrote this song on the way home from my Grandpa’s funeral for him, for me, and for all fallen American veterans and their families.
The Good Woman Waltz
©1999 B. Isbell
Well I picked up my six string, sat on the front porch swing, and wrote out this song of dispair
Seems my woman she left me, took my three-legged dog Lefty, which makes it real hard to still care
You can hear the raindrops as my one-eyed cat Cyclops licks the salt off my cheek as they fall
Well I should take Mama’s advice and say something real nice, but I’ve just one thing to tell y’all
A good woman can take away sorrow, A good woman can take away pain,
But my woman done stole my dog Lefty, So I hope she gets hit by a train,
yeah, I sure hope she gets hit by a train
Now I’m sittin’ here thinkin’, when I should be out drinkin’, ‘bout the times at old Adair’s Saloon
I’ve seen Hank and his boy there, an old Acuff named Roy there, and spent some Cash to see Johnny and June
They’d sing of their heartache and of lover’s they’d forsake, but next to you they can’t carry a note
They say a man only takes so much abuse ‘fore he breaks, and Lord knows you’ve left me flat broke
A good woman can take away sorrow, A good woman can take away pain,
But my woman had an affair with the barkeep, So I hope she gets hit by a train,
yeah, I sure hope she gets hit by a train
I remember the night, we had one hell-of-a fight, and she shot up our house and our bed
Then she came back the next day to say a mistake had been made and if she’d been a better shot I’d be dead
You see she thought I’d been cheatin’ after my double-A meetings with a young thing she called Linda Lou
But when she found those red panties, jumped the gun, and accused me, she forgot they were her Betty Sue’s
A good woman can take away sorrow, A good woman can take away pain,
But my woman had a woman without me, So I hope she gets hit by a train
A good woman can take away sorrow, A good woman can take away pain,
But my woman, ... stole my dog Lefty, had an affair with that barkeep named Paul,
shot my house plum full of lead, and then … had the audacity and indecency to have an affair
with another woman, … and didn’t even have the courtesy to ask me to participate, …
can you believe that shit? … damn, … bitch!
And I hope she gets hit by a train,
yeah, I sure hope she gets hit by a train!
Note—I swear this was the very first country/folk song I ever wrote. I literally took my guitar out to my front porch and an hour later had the entire song, which has been polished some since then. My good friend Ric Phiffer, a great musician, actually played this song live and told me three ladies started dancing on the bar the very first time it was ever played. All I know, is that as a rank amateur beginning songwriter, I was thrilled. My own version of this song, the Title cut on my CD “The Good Woman Waltz,” recorded in Nashville and released in 2005, was the No. 1 country song in the Texas Top 40 for original Texas songwriters in Summer 2006. In July 2008, TAXI (the world's leading independent A&R and songwriter organization) picked this song as one of their Top 10 favorites. In my opinion, it should be on every jukebox in every country dive in America. Hopefully, yours too!
Government Says
©2007 B. Isbell
I don’t care what the government says now,
I don’t care what lies they tell,
Time to find a leader we can trust now,
Time to tell the current bunch to go to hell.
They got Porsches and we got Hundais,
They got mansions and we got shacks,
Classic case of the rich gettin’ richer off
the sweat rollin’ off working poor folks back.
I got my problems and you got yours now,
Come together, we can fix ‘em all,
A little love and imagination,
Saves the world and tears down that wall,
Saves the world and tears down that wall
Repeat this next part 2x—get crowd to sing along:
Say Unh! (come on people say)
Unh! Oh, hell yeah!
Say Unh! (let me hear ya now)
Save the world and tear down that wall!
I don’t care what the government says now,
I don’t care what lies they tell,
Time to find a leader we can trust now,
Time to tell the current bunch to go to hell.
They got diamonds and we got mud now,
They got money and “WE AIN’T GOT JACK”,
Classic case of the rich gettin’ richer off
the sweat rollin’ off working poor folks back.
They got problems and we got ours now,
Come together, we can fix ‘em all,
Lennon talkin’ ‘bout imagination,
To save the world you got’ta love ‘em all!
To save the world you got’ta love ‘em all!
Keep repeating this next part—get crowd to sing along:
Say Unh! (come on people say)
Unh! Oh, hell yeah!
Say Unh! (let me hear ya now)
To save the world you got’ta love ‘em all!
Note—Hot off the press December 2007. Lennon was right!
Got to love the crowd singing along “to save the world you got’ta love ‘em all”
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Hanging On
©2007 B. Isbell
My mind’s awake, my body’s sleeping,
My thoughts are racing, my soul is weeping
Hanging on to something I can’t hold
I thought I needed you, but truth is …
I just can’t let you go
From the first time I ever saw your face on that sunny, sunny, sunny day
The first time I ever tasted your lips, I was just so, so blown away
You filled a hole inside of me that I, that I could not fill myself
And you restored the pride in me like nothing and nobody else
And there ain’t nothing I can do, there ain’t nothing I can say …
To make telling you any easier, I just know I cannot stay … and
My mind is hurting, Lord, my eyes are weeping,
My heart is crying, (and) my soul is grieving
(I’m) Hanging on to something I can’t hold
I thought I needed you, but truth is …
I just can’t let you go
And Lord, there’s a part of me that will always want to stay …
But I finally, finally figured out what I(ve) got to say … and
My mind is hurting, Lord, my eyes are weeping
My heart is crying, (and) my soul is grieving
(I’m) Hanging on to something I can’t hold
I thought I needed you, but truth is …
I just can’t let you go.
Note—hot off the press December 2007. Started off to be a co-write with my friend Beth Garner, but I finished it before she could get to it. It’s about situations all of us have had where you deeply loved someone, but just have to move on for your own sanity.
Home
©2003 B. Isbell
Johnny signed up at the local dimestore,
The recruiting man said, “you’ll be good at war,”
And Johnny thought, “Hell, at least that’s somethin’”
He’d had it real hard since before he was 10,
When his Daddy went down his Mama hit that gin,
But at least, his Mama loved him.
But Johnny wanted more than she could ever provide,
So he went and enlisted just to see the world with a gun by his side.
And on graduation day, his proud Mama prayed, “boy, don’t you get shot,
You come back OK,” & Johnny hugged his Mama & as he told her “Goodbye,”
He said “Mama don’t you worry and don’t you cry, ... cuz’ ...
I ...... I’m comin’ home, yeah, I ......I’m comin’ home”
Johnny fought real hard and in six weeks time,
Some General moved him up to the front of the line,
And said, “Johnny, Go out and make us proud.”
Well, he dug himself in to stay for the night,
Looked up at the stars and prayed into the sky,
He said “Lord, bring me courage and home alive,
And don’t you forget, … I don’t want to die.
Johnny watched the night fire and by it’s light,
He wrote a letter to his Mama just before the fight,
He said, “Mama I’m scared, but I got’ta be strong,
But don’t you cry, no, and don’t you worry none, ... cuz’ ...
I ...... I’m comin’ home, yeah, I ......I’m comin’ home”
Well, the war raged on and by dawn’s early light,
Johnny found himself trapped behind enemy lines,
And with a whole lot of courage and one last roar,
He said at least if die ... “I won’t feel pain no more.”
Well, they say in a war you never see the shot comin’,
But Johnny saw it all, and as the medic made him numb,
He said, “Doc, tell my Mama I love her, ... and that ...
I ...... I’m comin’ home, yeah, I ......I’m comin’ home,....
So Mama don’t you worry and don’t you cry,
‘Cuz I, I’m comin’ home, ... I’m comin’ home.”
Well, Johnny came home in a black plastic bag,
And they gave his Mom a medal and an American flag,
And she thought to herself, “now, ain’t that somethin’”
Johnny looked down on this scene from above,
and appeared to his Mama as an angel of love,
and said “Mama, don’t you worry and don’t you cry, ...
‘Cuz I ........ I’m home, yeah, I ......... I’m home,
So Mama don’t you worry and don’t you cry,
No, Mama don’t you worry and don’t you cry,
‘Cuz I, ... I made it home.”
“Mama, I’m home.”
Note—even though I think the Iraq war was misguided, I still support the troops. I think there are a lot of folks who have this view and it’s aggravating that the administration tries to paint folks with this view as “unpatriotic.” Tell that to Johnny’s Mama and all the others like her.
How My Heart Cries
©1998 B. Isbell
In the twilight, I see you sleeping,
Dancing moonbeams light up your face,
And I wonder what you are dreaming,
Can you take me to that place?
In the stillness, your heart is beating,
I feel love run through your veins,
In the morning, I see you weeping,
I want to hold you and ease your pain.
By the daylight, I hear you lauging,
Children’s smiles fill up your heart,
And I wonder what you are thinking,
And if you miss me when we’re apart.
In the evening, your beauty’s shining,
I see heads turn when you pass by,
When I’m with you, my love grows stronger,
And when I’m without you, how my heart cries.
In the quiet, I long to hold you,
Through the laughter and through the tears,
And I wonder if I will love you
Twice as much in fifty years.
And I promise, I’ll always be here,
Through the sunshine and through the rain,
My love is yours forever,
Just let me hold you and ease your pain.
By the moonlight, I still remember,
How on that staircase you stole my heart,
And I wonder if you remember,
And if you miss me when we’re apart.
In the evening, when you return to me,
My beating heart heaves a thousand sighs,
When I’m with you, my love grows stronger,
And when I’m without you, how my heart cries.
Note—I wrote this song lyric as a poem for my wife Nancy (now ex-wife) and then edited it, put it to music and turned it into a song in 1998 for my then girlfriend Maria. Very effectively and beautifully captures the joy of love you think will last forever. I wish I could have kept my promise, but in love and life, things don’t always work out as planned, sometimes for the better. If I had kept my promise, I wouldn’t have my twins Abby and Bella, the loves of my life. As a writer I cringe when I read “dancing moonbeams,” but as a lover I know that is exactly the emotion you feel when you’re in that silly, giddy, head over heels, yet still slightly insecure, first stage of love. God, I love that stage. And as a woman now, I just melt. Please sing this to me!
I Got You
©2008 B. Isbell
I got you, I got you so bad,
I got you, I got you so bad,
I got you, I got you so bad
Woke up Thursday morning,
Shotgun in my hand,
Girl, I'm comin' to see you,
'cause you're sleeping with another man
I got you, I got you so bad,
You’re the best and the worst love, this ol’ heart has ever had
I got you, I got you so bad,
I got you, I got you so bad,
I got you, I got you so bad
Watched the news last evenin’,
Sayin’ you were dead,
But ain’t no news to me,
‘cause I put that bullet through your head
I got you, I got you so bad,
I got you, best and the worst I've ever had
I got you, I got you so bad,
I got you, I got you so bad,
I got you, I got you so bad
Notes--nice little blues song about cheating and revenge, a common theme in the blues, played over a Howlin' Wolf type uptempo shuffle.
I Just Wan’na Be
©1999 B. Isbell
A man can get pretty lonely, yeah, that’s where I used to be,
Always hopin’ for some sunlight and a little company,
Then you woke me from my sleep and the rain, it came down on me,
And I just wan’na be, … yeah, I just wan’na be …
In your arms forever, kissin’ you in heather,
right here by your side, where the stars and moons collide,
I just wan’na be, … I just wan’na be … with you.
It was desperate times and desperate measures mixed with love and sympathy,
Watching westerns on the soapbox, writing lines that no one reads,
I just want for you to love me, when you’re cut girl, my soul bleeds,
And I just wan’na be, … yeah, I just wan’na be …
Anywhere together, tickling you with feathers,
right here by your arms, where I feel safe and warm,
I just wan’na be, … I just wan’na be … with you.
No, I don’t want to be lonely, can you help me make it through the night?
Can we embrace beside the fire, let soul-mates’ passion take its flight?
No, I don’t wan’na be lonely, please tell me you’re the one?
‘Cause every soul has an aura and yours shines brighter than the sun!
And you, you’re my one and only,
and I just wan’na be … with … you.
Note—I just love how love cures loneliness. So go out and find someone to share yours!
Of course, maybe I’m still “writing lines that no one reads,” but I doubt it. (smile).
I Want to Know
©2002 B. Isbell
I want to know, little darlin', how you think of me tonight,
I want to know, why in my arms, you always feel so right,
I want to know, if you love me, & if your love is true,
I want to know, ... I just got'ta know.
I want to know, pretty baby, if I can hold you tight,
I want to know, little darlin', the way you feel inside,
I want to know, if you love me, & if your love is true,
I want to know, ... I just got'ta know.
Your love is so nervous, are you afraid of the light?,
Will you love me forever, or at least for tonight?
I want to know, ... I just got'ta know,
I want to know, ... I just got'ta know.
I want to know the pureness of your love's sweet light, and
I want you to know, little darlin', I'll always treat you right,
& I want to know, if you love me, and if you'll love me tonight?
I want to know, ... I just got'ta know,
I want to know, ... Yeah, I just got'ta know.
Note—a song about the thrill and passion of the pursuit of a new love.
Judgment Day
©1999 B. Isbell
You, ... Yeah, You, ... Can you tell me what this world is coming to?
You, ... Yeah, You, ... Are you filled with rage and hate, have you been to school?
Lord, tell me what this world is coming to.
Hey, ... over there, ... unless I'm talking 'bout you do you really care?
Hey, ... Hey Dude, ... Still think the rest of us should have to cater to you?
Lord, tell me have we all just gone insane,
waiting on another Judgment Day?
Hey, ... are you living on the edge, ... or is your spirit crushed, do you wait on death?
Hey, ... Hey, You, ... What if half of us broke your golden rule?
Who'd be left to do it unto you?
Lord, tell me have we all just gone insane,
waiting on another Judgment Day? (2x)
Hey, ... quiet one, ... are you always shy, ... I bet you kill for fun.
Hey, ... Mr. Cool, ... If you work that con, are you nobody's fool?
Lord, tell me have we all just gone insane,
waiting on another Judgment Day? (3x)
Note—A song about Columbine, written to the shooters and those like them, and to our society.
Kerrville Love Song
©2006 B. Isbell
It’s 4 o’clock in Kerrville and tonight I’m going home,
Sun is shining on my back, but my dreams are not alone,
It’s a dirty, dusty pocket in this old beat up world,
But oh, she’s so beautiful to me,
Oh, she’s so beautiful to me.
Now folks, the road to Kerrville starts wherever you find love,
And every day I’m on my knees just to thank the Lord above,
For showing me the other side of the pain I seem to own,
And taking my heart to a place it could finally call home.
I’ve written songs in Texas and I’ve performed in Tennessee,
And I’ve sung at every campfire from Newport to Moline,
But in Kerrville I can be myself, create, and live free,
And when I pour my spirit out she still has room for me.
And every spring when my body aches and my mind has had enough,
My spirit always finds a way to be with my true love.
It’s 8 o’clock now in Kerrville and the sun is sinking low,
And though my heart is breaking, Lord, I just can’t seem to go,
But I guess I’ll take her with me through the music that I love,
‘Cuz oh, she’s so beautiful to me,
And oh, she’s so beautiful to me.
It’s showtime now in Kerrville and I think I’m here to stay.
Note—God, I love the Kerrville Folk Festival. I had the thrill of performing this song to Dalis Allen (the festival’s director), all of the new folk winners, and a packed house at Camp Stupid in 2006. Chills.
Lonely River
©2003 B. Isbell
I’m gon’na ford that lonely river,
and I’m gon’na sail that lonesome sea,
“til I find my cher-i-mi-o,
(then) she gon’na have a whole lot’ta fun with me!
Lord, I’ll call out, ‘til I find her,
Lord, I’ll call out, ‘til I find her,
Lord, I’ll call out, ‘til I find her,
(then) she gon’na have a whole lot’ta fun with me!
We’re gon’na dance, Lord, when I find her,
We’re gon’na dance, Lord, when I find her,
We’re gon’na dance, Lord, when I find her,
(then) we’re gon’na have a whole lot’ta fun, you’ll see!
Note—This is my attempt to write a simple, but very fun, uptempo Cajun 6/8 dance song.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lube Me Tender
©2003 B. Isbell
She loved to drive her daddy’s pick-up, on every road all over town,
If it was broke now she could fix it, she’d lube it up and lube it down,
She cherried out her little Mustang, she’d grind and polish that short block,
She loved to grease her boyfriend’s monkey, and fiddle around with his big ‘ol …
She’d lube it up and lube it down,
Don’t like to hear no squeaky sound,
That thing is how she gets around,
She lubes it up and lubes it down.
She loved to wear her Granny’s knickers, while pulling on those factory plugs,
But there’s only one thing could excite her, like seeing sparks while making love,
You see she’d polish that ‘ol stick shift, in quite an unconventional way,
And when she slammed it into fifth boys, why even God could hear her pray.
She’d lube it up and lube it down,
Don’t like to hear no squeaky sound,
That thing is how she gets around,
She lubes it up and lubes it down.
She loved to drive her tractor naked, just to feel that engine hum,
And when we’d call her in for supper, she’d be yellin’, “Oh my God, here I come,”
That girl she fancied pullin’ drive trains, and rollin’ around in oil slicks,
She loved to bump and grind her rear end, and jam her gear box with an incredibly huge ‘ol …
She’d lube it up and lube it down,
Don’t like to hear no squeaky sound,
That thing is how she gets around,
She lubes it up and lubes it down,
That thing is how she gets around,
She lubes it up and lubes it down.
Note—This really is just a song about a girl who loves working on cars … (grin). This song was one of only 10 FINALIST in the novelty/comedy category of the very prestigious 2008 USA Songwriting Contest.
Mama Said
©2004 B. Isbell
Mama said, “Son, don’t you cry, he’ll come back someday for you and I,”
Mama said, “Everything’s gon’na be just fine,”
Yeah, that’s what my Mama said.
Growin’ up in a small minded town, you learn to break all of the rules,
Hangin’ out with the same old crowd, ‘cuz there’s nothin’ else for you to do,
And when the insiders turn you outside, Lord, there ain’t nowhere to run,
When your Daddy leaves and your Mama’s cryin’, God it’s hard to be a Son,
But Mama said, “Son, don’t you cry, he’ll come back someday for you and I,”
Mama said, “Everything’s gon’na be just fine,”
So Daddy, why’d you go and make my Mama lie?
And Grandpa said, “Son, lift up your head, Lord you know you’re not to blame,”
And though I tried to be big inside all I could feel was shame,
It’s so hard to learn how to be a man without a Father to lead the way,
But Mama said “it’s probably harder still to be a Dad to a Son that you’ve betrayed.”
And Mama said, “Son, don’t you cry, he’ll come back someday for you and I,”
Mama said, “Everything’s gon’na be just fine,”
Mama said, “Son, don’t you cry, don’t you know your Dad loves you and I,”
Yeah, that’s what my Mama said,
So Daddy, why’d you go and make my Mama lie?
Yeah Daddy, why’d you have to go and make my Mama cry?
Note—While this song is not about me, it seems to stir deep emotions in those so affected. My friend Rick Beresford loves this little song, but is bothered by my lyrical choices, so I left them. The lyrics accurately paint the emotion I was trying to portray, just ask those so affected.
Misunderstood
©2002 B. Isbell
Little Josie, she was so misunderstood,
And all her life her Papa told her she was no damn good,
So at 17 she packed her things and decided to retreat,
She said “if I can’t find love at home, I’ll have to find it in the streets,”
Yeah, mmmm, yeah,
But the streets are cold and there’s no time for cryin’,
And Little Josie had to make her way by cheatin’, stealin’ and lyin’,
Until she was caught lyin’, in her own damn blood,
Little Josie, she was so misunderstood.
Carlotta was a looker, yeah she was on fire,
She could have any man that she desired,
But Carlotta had this secret ever since she was 5,
She said, “One day I’ll have my revenge Papa, and a damn good alibi.”
Yeah, that was her plan,
as she explained to the waitress and I working late at Dirty Dan’s.
She told us, “I’ll bring him to his knees,
Gon’na make that bastard beg for mercy, and when he starts screamin’ ‘Please’
Like he should,
Gon’na shoot that bastard down, ‘cuz I’m so misunderstood.”
And when I said, “No Papa, you’re hurting me, (BANG!),
I guess you so misunderstood.”
Note—A song about abuse. I was reading an article in the paper.
Some women cry when they hear it, … I cry for them. This song was one of only 10 FINALIST in the lyrics category of the very prestigious 2008 USA Songwriting Contest.
(I usually only play Verse 2 of this song live and then branch into the last verse of All Along the Watchtower and the Choruse of Gimme Shelter. Sort of eerie. A trilogy about abuse.)
My Life
©2008 B. Isbell
I just want to belong
I just want you all to dance and sing along
I sure hope that you can feel my authenticity,
Cuz I just want to belong
Yeah, I just want to belong
Sometimes I think the world’s conspiring to make me bleed,
Sometimes I wonder now what my existence really means
Sometimes I cry, sometimes I don’t, and yet at other times I feel my life’s become a joke,
And the cracks fall in-between
And when my head touches the ground
And the weight of life is spinning my light round and round
I stand up tall and proud, and pour my soul out to the crowd,
Just hoping something’s gon’na matter
Just hoping this life’s gon’na matter … (cuz)
I just want to belong
I just want you all to dance and sing along
I sure hope that you can feel my authenticity,
Cuz I just want to belong
I just want to belong
I just want a friend to laugh and tell me when I’m wrong
And I sure hope you folks decide to take a chance on me
Cuz I just want to belong
Yeah, I just want to belong
I just want us to be free,
And I sure hope that someone listenin’ will one day see,
The power of your heart, to change the world through love and art,
Makes your existence truly matter
And I just want to belong
And I hope one day that someone listenin’ will sing this song
And someone thinks that my life matters
Notes--maybe one of the best songs I've written, certainly one of the most meaningful and personal. Poured out in an hour or less. I was watching a new show "quarterlife" and thinking about some things the lead character had said in her blog about life. Result: one great song! And it's very, very true - I do hope ultimately that someone thinks that my life matters.
My Soul Is Flying
©2003 B. Isbell
My soul is flying, destination unknown,
My soul is flying, I know I’ve got to move on,
Time to pack up all these sorrows and find these blues a new home.
When my spirit is soaring, my feet just won’t touch the ground,
Lord, when my spirit’s soaring, and my feet just won’t come down,
That’s when these blues come calling and tear my whole world tumblin’ down.
When my soul is crying, all I ever feel is pain,
Lord, when my soul is crying, all I ever feel is pain,
The blues stole my heart and ripped that self-respect out my brain.
My soul is flying, to a heaven unknown,
Lord, my soul is flying, it’s got dreams all it’s own,
Lord, please end my suffering and find these blues a new home.
Note—I love the blues. More correctly, I revere the blues. Anybody can write a bad blues song. I would like to write great blues songs which survive me and are remembered in posterity. Thus, I have avoided writing blues songs until I am better at playing and truly understand this style. This is one of my first attempts at writing such a song and I think it stands up well. Check it out on The Dead Prophets Bonus Edition--poor live recording, but great performance!
Naked Again
©2002 B. Isbell & B. Miller
He loves me, he loves me, he loves me … Not.
A few inflicted wounds crush my feelings bare,
Nothing’s within my own control.
He cuts straight down, down, down to the bone.
Naked again, broken and wounded,
Naked again, torn and jaded.
All that I hold dear he shatters with his fear,
Careful now what I say.
I say something and piss him off anyway.
Naked again, broken and wounded,
Naked again, torn and jaded. (2x)
A guilty disguise he wears so well, so well,
You never see it coming ‘til you’re impaled.
A few weeks go by, his letters make me cry.
Strange and eccentric as he seems,
His heart beats still, still, still for me.
Naked again, broken and wounded,
Naked again, torn and jaded. (2x)
Torn and jaded, … jaded, … jaded.
Note—Brigitte Miller and my only co-write. I wrote the music, she wrote the lyrics. The result was a really nice song. The song, with my arrangement, appears on her Naked Violet CD.
The NASCAR Song
©2003 B. Isbell
PRE-RACE:
Going to the races, and I just can't wait,
them Winston Cup boys are gonna race today,
It's better than sex, or ropin’ old King Kong,
yeah, it's NASCAR on FOX and this is your NASCAR song
Well, Pontiac, Dodge, Ford and Chevrolet,
Gon'na roll 'em on out at Daytona today,
So fire 'em up, and strap the seat belts on,
yeah, it's NASCAR on FOX, ... let's get it on
Well, ol' DW likes to set us straight,
and little Stevie Byrnes can never catch a break,
from Jeff, Chris, Larry, Mark and all the crew,
we're gon'na serve it on up from Hollywood to you
START:
Boogety, Boogety, Boogety … Let’s Go Racing!
Well, little Dale Jr. likes to celebrate,
he likes to drink that Bud after drivin' 88,
and ol' Mark Martin, likes to get it up while gettin' it on,
yeah, it's NASCAR on FOX, and this is your NASCAR song
We got Sterling Marlin, Brett Bodine, and Ricky Rudd,
and maybe Dale Jarrett'll even race that truck,
and I wonder if Jimmy Spencer's got his target locked on,
yeah, it's NASCAR on FOX, ... Let's get it on
If lady luck is with me, I'll be in victory lane,
thankin' my crew, and kissin' a dame,
Gon'na pray to the King, and Dale Sr. too,
and hope on lap 3, we all know what to do
(moment of silence)
EARLY-RACE::
Now Terry LaBonte tries to sell us flakes,
While passin' Jimmie Johnson in the 48,
And ol' Jeff Gordon, can flat get it on,
Yeah, it's NASCAR on FOX, and this is your NASCAR song
Rusty, Mike and Kenny are all named Wallace,
But all three them boys simply know how to haul ass,
It's Stricklin' business, a redneck autobahn,
yeah, it's NASCAR on FOX, ... And we're gettin' it on
1ST CAUTION:
Well, their drivin' in the lawn, and they're brushin' the walls,
but with smoke and mirrors, they'll get through it all,
the yellow flag is waivin', the pace car's on the track,
Yeah, it's NASCAR on FOX, and we'll be right back (IN 4, 3, 2, 1 ...)
MID-RACE:
We got Ricky Craven, Kenny Schrader's M&Ms,
and someone fired Buckshot out a cannon again,
He's smokin' Benson n' he edges out his number 10,
it's NASCAR folks, and they're racin' to win
I wanna see a Kurt Busch, while the old Dick Trickle's
Layin' down the rubber to try Sadler in the middle,
Yeah, they're bumpin' & grindin' on those damaged rear ends,
It's NASCAR on FOX, and they're racin' to win
Drivin' hard to the corner, and she's startin' to push,
if he changes right rubber, he'll be drivin' BUSCH,
They're racin' 3 wide, and they're racin' to win,
and after this commercial, they'll be racin' again ...
TV Announcer: are you tired, lonely, overweight, or just can't sleep? ... Do you have itchy hemorhoids, depression, low back pain, a sun-burned neck, or dysfunction, sexual or otherwise? ... Well, NASCAR fans, ... Have we got a cure for you! ... our New miracle cream ... removes rust, mildew and all types of assorted grime, invigorates, restores, renews and just simply beautifies any surface it touches, including the face of your spouse or best friend, ... And this new miracle cream, which we proudly call "intimidator 3", can be yours for our special low introductory price of $19.95, ... yep, that's right nascar fans, just $19.95, ...
but only if you call now ... Operators are standin' by to take your call, ..... and your money ...
NEXT CAUTION:
The yellow flag is waivin', there's debris on the track,
time to hit the pits, and maybe get a lap back,
send that black flagged leader right to the rear,
Yeah, it's NASCAR on FOX, so go and get more beer
LATE-RACE:
I wanna see Ward’s cat, I wanna see Mike Skinner,
In a Kodak photofinish to determine the winner,
I wonder which driver’ll stick his nose where it don’t belong,
yeah, it’s NASCAR on FOX, and this is your NASCAR song
And there goes Bobby Hamilton still drivin’ 55,
But he needs more speed ‘cause these boys can drive,
Yeah, they’re racin’ to the finish in the final few laps
It’s NASCAR on FOX, and we’ll be right back (in 4, 3, 2, 1 …)
I got my eyes on the track, the best chief in the pits,
I sure hope that pretty trophy girl has got big (tits),
take on 4 more tires, and a splash of gas,
Yeah, it’s NASCAR folks, and we’re racin’ for cash
END OF RACE:
Well, the white flag is out, there’s only one to go,
So put your pedal to the metal and grind it through the floor,
And if you’re real, real lucky, you can pass the leader in four,
It’s NASCAR time to separate the men from the boys
Well, the checkered flag is waivin’ on this NASCAR song,
which is officially sponsored by NASCAR.COM,
so until the next race, you foxy NASCAR freaks,
just watch Inside NASCAR and NASCAR This Week.
Note—Ok, so I’m just a girl that loves Nascar racing, what can I say. This is a blatant attempt to create an uptempo driving country blues shuffle theme song for Fox Sports Nascar coverage. I sent the lyrics to them this year (2007) hoping they might find an artist to record it and help produce it. You never know.
Nobody Here
©2000 B. Isbell
You … You make me crazy, I can’t find a way to get through to you,
No, to you, my love is never real, it’s all about the way you feel.
Then you pick me up and you slam me down,
You shut me up, turn me out and spin me around,
Then you set me up and you break me down,
Yeah, life’s a tilt-a-whirl when you’re around.
I admit I’m lazy, yes I am, but I always make you laugh, I’m always there to hold your hand,
But to you, my heart’s a ferris wheel, it’s all about the way you feel.
Then you pick me up and you slam me down,
You shut me up, turn me out and spin me around,
Then you set me up and you break me down,
Yeah, life’s a tilt-a-whirl when you’re around.
No need to pout,
Won’t help to put that lip out,
‘cause you can’t make me feel the way you do,
nobody here but me and you.
You … you’re amazing, yes you are, but I hate the way my love stays bottled in your jar,
To you, my heart’s a midway prize, it’s just that I can’t see your love through crying tear-stained eyes.
No need to shout,
Won’t help to rip my heart out,
‘cause you can’t make me feel the way you do,
nobody here but me and you,
nobody here but me and you.
Note—Love sure seems like a carnival ride sometimes, doesn’t it?
Peoria
©2000 B. Isbell
Some people hear what they want to hear,
Some people see just what they want to see,
When they’re down, they’ll say anything,
And swear to God, it don’t mean a thing,
And I say, yeah, I say yeah, Oh hell yeah. (2x)
There ain’t no justice and there ain’t no truth,
And judges rule just how they want to rule,
That’s how it is unless your filthy rich,
Unless your Daddy shoots down the old Judges’ bitch,
And I say, yeah, I say yeah, Oh hell yeah. (2x)
Where will they run when there ain’t no place to go?
Where will they hide when there ain’t no place to go?
Time to hang her from the nearest tree,
Make her pay for all that witchery,
No need for reason when the law’s the law,
No need for hope when they nuke Peoria,
And I say, yeah, I say yeah, Oh hell yeah. (2x)
Where will they run when there ain’t no place to go?
Where will they hide when there ain’t no place to go?
But where will they run when they nuke Peoria?
And where will they hide when they nuke Peoria?
Note—If the terrorists attacked Peoria, Illinois, instead of New York or LA, think how paralyzing to our country that would be. A song to those in power to change their ways before they do something that might cause the terrorists to actually attempt it. I pray they don’t.
Pet the Kaiser
©2003 B. Isbell
Come on down to my family pet store,
I got a dog on a leash but wouldn’t call her no Ho,
She’s the queen bee of Brooklyn, likes to bark from her knees,
But like all my favorite lassies, she’s ready to please.
So I spanked my little puppy as she howled at the moon,
I cried little boy blue and she came really soon,
Yeah, I knew it was love when after only one kiss,
She cried, “dot.com this and piss on Elvis.”
Lead Vox: She wants to pet the Kaiser (yeah) (4x)
Back Vox: yeah and when the Big E heard, he was pissed,
Came out of Canadian retirement and headed to Vegas,
He was 500 pounds of angry Canadian back-bacon,
Ready to wreak havoc on her East Brooklyn ass.
Well, the groove sort of hit me like a motive with steam,
She was one wet puppy when it rained on her dream,
See her mother said “no,” but her father said “yes,”
So we hitched up the wagons and we headed out West.
It was 40 below 30 miles out of Vegas,
When we stopped at a dive to get coffee and breakfast,
But the owner called the sheriff to place her under arrest,
For sayin,’ “dot.com this and piss on Elvis.”
Lead Vox: She wants to pet the Kaiser (yeah) (4x)
Back Vox: the sheriff called Big E and said “where do you want her boss,”
E said, “take her to the jail and I’ll meet you there,
There’s a whuppin’ fixin’ to commence to get ready to begin,
‘cuz nobody pisses on Elvis …
Well, she hired a lawyer and sued the sheriff for millions,
Now there’s rings on her fingers, a Benz in front of her mansion,
She tells all her wealthy friends about the day she got famous,
For sayin,’ “dot.com this and piss on Elvis.”
Lead Vox: She wants to pet the Kaiser (yeah) (7x)
Back Vox: and on the 3rd anniversary of that unforgettable night in jail,
And only a few months after getting her first big check,
She called the Big E to apologize and said “meet me in Rio,”
Whereupon she divorced the lawyer, married Elvis, and had 5 kids,
Which only goes to show there’s no moral to this story,
Unless, of course, you like Elvis or really kinky sex,
… and as they sailed off into the Brazilian sunset … she cried,
“dot.com this and piss on Elvis.”
She want to pet the Kaiser!
Note—I had a dog named Kaiser who was 1/2 Labrador and 1/2 Sharpei and a truly great dog. He inspired this trippy little Kid Rock like song written when the dot.coms started taking off. Of course, petting the Kaiser might also refer to something else, right King? I like Elvis too, but he’s not a god so get over it. And who knows, he might have even liked it.
Poor Man’s Blues
©2006 B. Isbell
Lord, I work all day, just to earn me a dime,
Boss man only pay me a nickel, and say it ain’t even quittin’ time,
And I say Lord, what the hell am I working for?
I realize don’t nobody owe me nothing,
But I’m just sick and tired of being poor.
Rush home to see my wife, she takes my brand new nickel,
Tells me how it just ain’t enough, and serves me bread and a pickle,
And I say Lord, what the hell am I working for?
I realize don’t nobody owe me nothing,
But I’m just sick and tired of being poor.
Then the tax man come calling, takes all that I own,
I’m so tired of struggling, and hearing that woman bitch and moan,
And I say Lord, what the hell am I working for?
I realize don’t nobody owe me nothing,
But I’m just sick and tired of being poor.
Might have to sell this guitar, just to pay all my bills,
So much stress in my life, Lord, it’s making me ill,
And I say Lord, what the hell am I working for?
I realize don’t nobody owe me nothing,
But I’m just sick and tired of being poor.
Note—Sort of a Hootchie Coochie style blues song about working extremely hard and still being poor. Been there, done that. Sucks, … and that’s what this song is about. Bet a lot of you can relate. You can just hear B.B., Albert or Freddie King beltin’ this one out.