Genuine. Quirky. Rootsy.
LYRICS
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1. CURSE OF THE BILLY GOAT
2. OLD SONG HANDED DOWN
3. A TOAST TO THE WOMAN IN THE HOLLER
4. THE GREAT SANTA SNOWBALL DEBACLE OF 1968
5. THE POINT
6. DEATH ROW ALL-STARS
7. UNRELIABLE TAXI
8. MARY THE ELEPHANT
9. THE MAN WHO BLEW KISSES
10. IN THE BEGINNING
11. LIAR LIAR, PANTS ON FIRE
12. TWO LEFT FEET
13. THE BALLAD OF D.B. COOPER
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1. The Curse (Of The Billy Goat)
"Billy Goat" Bill Sianis
Had box seats to game four
Of the '45 World Series
Cubs versus Detroit
One seat he would sit in
The other was for his kid
A goat by the name of Murphy
Who the Cubs had always admitted
That day an usher wouldn't let them
To their box at Wrigley Field
So directly to the owner
PK Wrigley he appealed
The answer came from Wrigley
It was final and succinct
He said there’d been a few complaints
Some people didn’t like the stink
Sianis, he was livid
His face was turning blue
He went out past the turnstiles
Onto Waveland Avenue
The vendors on the sidewalk
Say he raised his arms up first
And with his hands above his head
They say he placed The Curse
Just then a cloud passed over
From the lake a chilly wind
Anybody within earshot
Woulda had goosebumps on their skin
The skeptics say baloney (it’s hoo-ha)
The poets make up verse
60 some years later
They still blame it on the curse
Those two box seats bore witness
As the Tigers took the game
Like they would games five & seven
The Cubbies came up lame
Ol' Billy Goat Sianis
Got the last word, Holy Cow
He telegrammed Mr. Wrigley
Asked him “Who smells now?”
It stared at Leo Durocher
Stared right at his lip
And Leo stood there staring back
With his hands upon his hips
On the top step of the dugout
A cat the color of a hearse
They blew a nine game lead in '69
People say it was The Curse
They were playing for the pennant
In 1984
Against the San Diego Padres
They only had to win one more
To advance to the World Series
But they slipped into reverse
And when Durham flubbed a grounder
People blamed it on the curse
Most recently, 2003
And just five outs away
When a Cubs fan tried to catch a foul
While the ball was still in play
The lockers had been plasticised
But the bubble had just burst
The Marlins drank the champagne
People blamed it on The Curse
Just ask someone in Boston
How long it took to break
The Curse of the Bambino
With its annual heartache
And every time it happens
It just feels that much worse
They say there’s always next year
And that might be The Curse
2. Old Song Handed Down
An old photograph, it’s in your eyes
The treble clef, the key, the ties
Would there be any more of you?
In the family line who played music too?
Did you stray a little from the score?
Did you ever try to add anything more?
Did you ever try to make things up?
Just little riffs & stuff?
What kind of music did you play?
The kind that makes hard times go away?
Ancient tunes that were passed along?
Was anybody writing songs?
Did people think of you as odd?
Did they think it came from the devil or G-d?
Did they ever tell you to keep quiet?
Did you suffer when you had to deny it?
People probably didn’t play guitars
There wouldn’t have been any popular stars
Who’d come around, who you’d have heard
There was no way to spread the word
Nobody had a radio
Record player or a stereo
No Ipod and no tv
No cassettes and no cds
You had a violin and you had a bow
How far away did you have to go?
To get where no one else could hear
So you could play it loud and clear?
Did you have such a secret place
Where you could go and know the Grace?
A river bank or a favorite tree
Somewhere you could just be free?
As I go from town to town
Small glimpses are all that I’ve found
Would you recognize these sounds?
Are they like the old songs handed down?
When you used to sit & play
Would everyone and everything go away?
Was there anyone else who understood
Anywhere in the neighborhood?
Or anywhere else for miles around?
The next little village, even the next town?
Did you ever see the city 50 miles away?
Did you ever get to hear an orchestra play?
In the village market or the few little shops
Could you get a new string if one ever popped?
Your first violin, who gave it to you?
Was it handed down, was it made for you?
Or did you get to go and pick it out?
In the local shops were Jews allowed?
Did your parents have to sacrifice for years?
Was it music to their ears?
If we could just sit one night under the stars
The same constellations, the very same Mars
Not talk about neocons, or about czars
All I want to do is pick the guitar
You can tune up that fiddle & rosin the bow
If you want we could give it a go
I only really know 3 or 4 chords
I slide this capo thing up the fingerboard
I wonder who you’d be today
Or I’d be back then and what we’d play
A gypsy tune, a Russian waltz
One of mine or something classical
For now I’ll blow kisses, for now I send love
And if you can listen from somewhere above
I hope you can hear that it comes from a place
An old photograph, a familiar face
As I go from town to town
Small glimpses are all that I’ve found
Would you recognize these sounds?
Are they like the old songs handed down?
3. A Toast to the Woman in the Holler
Catherine’s boyfriend played saxophone
Catherine wanted a flute
There was one in the window of the music store
That happened to be a real beaut
But Mummy couldn’t afford it
This much Catherine knew
Still, she stood there a few minutes dreaming
Knowing it wouldn’t come true
Christmas time was coming
And Catherine had the blues
Her Mummy asked her what she wanted
Catherine didn’t tell the truth
She knew there wasn’t the money
Not even for one to rent
The only thing Catherine really wanted
Was to play an instrument
Catherine cried for a month in her bedroom
When she had to quit the school band
The woman who lived in the holler
Heard about this secondhand
And the goodness gathered within her
And fluttered like butterflies
She in a vision released them
And she watched them take to the skies
And on a very cold night in December
Maybe the coldest night of the year
The woman who lives in the holler
Cried a few secret tears
For the last few moments of glory
And the glories that had been before
And the times it had been there to rescue her
She set her flute down by the door
People whisper about her
The locals say she’s a witch
Though she’d be the first to come help them
If they ever got stuck in a ditch
The candles she lights at her altar
They burn as a gesture of love
The kind they talk about in the churches
Yet they know so little of
It was one day just after Christmas
And Catherine wore her new hat
Her mom brought her out to the holler
The woman was there with her cats
Catherine had no idea
But someday maybe she would
That what she would soon be receiving
Was being given for a greater good
So here’s to the future of music.
And here’s to the power of song
And here’s a toast to the woman in the holler
For passing these things along
The case was covered with stickers
And words.that this woman had scrawled
From the magic places she’d been to
Trinkets from her own Mardi Gras
And it all meant nothing to Catherine
It wasn’t her story to tell
She’ll have her own words and stickers
Should she ever fall under the spell
So it’s Catherine’s turn now to hold her
Here’s hoping she’ll learn how to play
Maybe she’ll drop by the holler
To visit this woman some day
Maybe she’ll come with her boyfriend
The one who plays saxophone
Maybe they’ll play for the woman
A few things they made up on their own
So here’s to the sweet gift of music
Here’s to the power of song
And a toast to the woman in the holler
For passing these things along
4. The Great Santa Claus Debacle of 1968
It was the 15th of December
1968
Franklin Field in Philly
The subject of debate:
Did the Eagles’ fans boo Santa
Because they thought that he was drunk?
Because his costume was in tatters?
Or because the team just stunk?
The coach was Joe Kuharich
He clearly had to go
The homemade banners hanging up
They all were saying so
They hung him from the flagpole
In effigy that day
An airplane pulled a sign
That told him where to go away
It was the last game of the season
The team would finish 2 and 12
The snow was really falling
The cheerleaders dressed like elves
Norm Snead threw interceptions
The runners gained no ground
If it wasn’t for the booing
There wouldn’t have been a sound
The gun went off at halftime
But the field had too much snow
To go on with the regularly
Scheduled halftime show
The guy who would play Santa
Never even left his house
He’d phoned a little earlier
To say that he could not get out
And there was Frank Olivo
A 19 year old fan
In his Uncle Charlie’s Santa suit
With a fake beard in the stands
Did someone from the Eagles
Come & promise him applause?
If he’d just run out on the field
While the band played "Here Comes Santa Claus."
There probably was some drinking
If you measured the whole scene
There were the usual bare chested guys
With faces painted green
By the time our Frank Olivo
Had hit the end zone running
The first of what would be a couple hundred
Snowballs started coming
One knocked off his glasses
One knocked of his beard
A couple of them made his
Phony eyebrows disappear
He gave the crowd the finger
And stood there like a giant
“You’ll all get nothing for Christmas”
He yelled out in defiance
In the safety of the tunnel
He scooped snow out of his ears
The Eagles marketing director
Asked if he’d come back the next year
Frank Olivo answered,
“No, I don't think so
Because next year it might be bottles
If there isn’t any snow”
5. The Point
When I was a little feller
Ping pong table in the cellar
Every night just after dinner
He used to let me be the winner
The ones I could get over the net
He’d pretend he couldn’t get
Deliberately he’d hit them wide
But only barely miss the side
Everything he’d hit real soft
He would turn it on & off
But just to show me that he could
He’d hit one almost through the wood
My dad, he was the champion
Me, I was his only son
He taught me everything he knew
And I’ve shown him a thing or two
He played the ball with lots of spin
Taught me how to serve like him
I was eleven, maybe ten
Starting to play a little better then
Then I started talking trash
Finally he’d met his match
Sixteen, maybe seventeen
Taut as the net that was between us
He’d slam one & I’d slam one
He’d slam one & I’d slam one
He’d slam another, I’d slam another
Back & forth, attacking each other
It was spin and counter spin
Neither could let the other win
Things could never be the same
When I learned to beat him at his game
Now we play like gentlemen
Volley back & forth again
Neither of us keeping score
We don’t need to anymore
Now I don’t want to slam at all
I don’t want him to have to chase the ball
Let’s just keep this thing in play
That’s the whole point anyway
6. Death Row All-Stars
Where the Rockies meet the Plains
Towns rose up to meet the trains
Frontier justice handed down
Rawlins was that kind of town
They’d hang somebody now & then
Make some shoes out of their skin
Put them up there on display
Reminding folks crime didn’t pay
Wyoming built a state pen here
For the worst of men to spend their years
Tom Horn had been the last to hang
Before the shortstop Joseph Seng
Now all my teammates, one by one
And each of us a mother’s son
Will follow to the gallows pole
Lord have mercy on my soul
The day that Warden Allston came
He hung a picture he had framed
Of Connie Mack, his eyes ablaze
Sitting with his World Champ A’s
He ordered balls & bats & gloves
To form a prison baseball club
Teams from all across the west
Would testify we were the best
Practice in the prison yard
Concrete diamond, pocked and scarred
I only lived to crush that ball
Somewhere far beyond the walls
To places I won’t ever see
Go on ball, you go for me
Give those lawmen all the drop
Keep on rolling, never stop
On game days homemade banners hung
The streets were full, the bells were rung
The Carbon County Volunteer Band
Played for people in the stands
Dark blue flannels trimmed with white
They fit just fine, baggy or tight
Compared to wearing prison blues
They kept us off the working crews
1911, 1912
Trophies on the warden’s shelf
We went 39 & 6
Against a clock that always ticks
The warden bet on us to win
So did the judge, the two were friends
Our executions would be stayed
Depending on how well we played
Yesterday I struck out twice
Lay all night on a bed of ice
The warden called me in this morn
Asked me for my uniform
Offered me a cigarette
Told me that my date’s been set
Tomorrow, should the sun still rise
I would be the most surprised
This here 5 x 7 cell
At the old Crossbar Hotel
I’ll leave things just the way they are
The photographs, the baseball cards
Whoever has to take them down
There’s one of me out on the mound
Send it to my Mama, please
And say I died from some disease
7. The Unreliable Taxi Company
The Unreliable Taxi Company, call him if you want
It’s just Bob & his cab is probably sitting out in front
Of one of the local taverns in a little Michigan town
But The Unreliable Taxi Company might not want to be found
The Unreliable Taxi might take off Saturday night
Even if he plans on working & you never know, he might
But not if there’s a poker game or something on tv
You’ll have to find another way to where you want to be
If you go out drinking thinking Bob’ll take you home
Be prepared ‘cause every now & then he’ll leave you on your own
You can either walk back or stay right where you are
Until he can come & take you, or drive you to your car
The Unreliable Taxi parked in a dark & quiet place
It’ll be a couple of hours before Bob can show his face
He’ll be driving in the morning, he’ll be glad to take you then
It’ll be a couple of hours - it’s hard to say just when
The Unreliable Taxi Company, call him if you will
He’s never had an answering machine & he surely never will
Maybe you’d be better off to get yourself a bike
The Unreliable Taxi, you can call him if you like
But The Unreliable Taxi Company might not answer his phone
Even sometimes when he’s only sitting around at home
Maybe you can reach him - he might even show
He might even be on time - it’s something you don’t know
The Unreliable Taxi Company sleeping at the wheel
No panic to the locals, it’s really no big deal
Even when it’s noon & his cab is still out front
Nobody wants to wake him, you can try it if you want
The Unreliable Taxi, you see him around town
You might even see him driving somebody around
If he needs the money & if he isn’t drunk
If he hasn’t locked his only set of keys inside his trunk
8. Mary the Elephant
In the Sparks Brothers Circus
They smoked only cheap cigars
A two bit traveling circus.
10 to 15 railroad cars
With a not so high high wire
And some leaks around the tent
Educated sea lions
And four or five elephants
In the Clinch River Valley
A little mining town
Not too far from Kingsport
There's no one still around
That can tell it like it happened
And just stick to the facts
Not get mixed up with legends
Or start filling in the cracks
Red was Mary's handler
They'd hired him that day
He'd rode in on a box car
And he just sort of stayed
He got a job as janitor
At the Riverside Hotel
Until the circus came to town
He bid everyone farewell
He knew nothing about elephants
But what was there to know?
They were big, they were dumb
And they walked kind of slow
They had trunks for grabbing peanuts
And to stuff them in their mouths
He figured that was pretty much all
You need to know about 'em
So they handed Red a stick
For the afternoon parade
Only once did he whack Mary
It was his only mistake
She wrapped her trunk around him
Threw him to the ground
Stepped upon his head
There were children all around
Now contrary to the rumors
She was never tried
She never was convicted
Of any homicide
She never went to prison
No one sentenced her to hang
Like the storytellers told it
And the singers often sang
It was front page in the papers
From Statesville to Little Rock
From barbershops to filling stations
Mary was the talk
Sparks Brothers Circus
They just couldn’t be going around
With such an unpredictable creature
They would have to put her down
It's said they fired bullets
But it was too small a gun
They tried some electricity
But she wasn’t even stunned
It was all done in the spirit of
Good clean family fun
In the entertainment business
You give the people what they want
They shipped Mary in a railcar
To Erwin, Tennessee
They advertised a hanging
3000 came to see
The ringleader announced
It would be in the railroad yard
When the matinee was over
And there'd be no extra charge
They left her hanging half an hour
Till somebody got her down
The people got their money's worth
Pity the poor clowns
Who weren’t really smiling
When they dumped her in a grave
That had been dug by a steam shovel
And was as big as a cave
The town won’t put a marker
Above where Mary lies
They don’t want the attention
Or lawsuits to arise
She never went to prison
No court sentenced her to hang
Like some storytellers told it
And some singers often sang
In the Sparks Brothers Circus
They smoked only cheap cigars
A two bit traveling circus
10 to 15 railroad cars
9. The Man Who Blew Kisses
The man who blew kisses stood out in the crowd
He wasn’t so tall & he wasn’t loud
I couldn’t tell you how he was dressed
But of everyone there I remember him best
The man who blew kisses was simple & free
He never considered how people might see him
He walked on the water & swam through the air
No trepidation & without a care
The man who blew kisses lives in a home
He isn’t allowed to go out on his own
Wherever they take him he’s happy to go
He loves everybody & lets them all know
The man who blew kisses, blew them at me
It tickled my heart & it buckled my knee
It made my voice crack & it righted all wrongs
I blew kisses back at the end of the songs
The man who blew kisses in front of the stage
Knew nothing of jealousy, nothing of rage
Nothing of prejudice, nothing of shame
He’d never been broken, never been tamed
The man who blew kisses, he misses some things
But he was catching my drift, he had air in his wings
His head was a’ rocking, he was clapping his hands
He was stomping his feet, he was doing a dance
The man who blew kisses eats tulips for lunch
And probably rainbows but that’s just a hunch
Sunshine & pixie dust mixed in his punch
Daisies for breakfast he eats by the bunch
The man who blew kisses will blow them at you
He blows them at anyone, no matter who
And I thought to myself in the middle of all this
That the song I was singing was but a kiss
10. In the Beginning (by Nick Annis)
In beginning...G-d created the Heavens and the Earth. And the Earth was without form and void and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the spirit of G-d was moving across the face of the waters. It’s an oral history, that was handed down, father to son, word of mouth, from Adam to Seth, Seth to Enos, Enos to Canaan. For 40 generations...a growing changing story, handed down, word of mouth, father to son.
‘Til Moses gets it down on lamb skin, but lamb skins wear out...need to be recopied. So you have copies of copies of copies of copies of copies of copies of an oral history, passed down through forty generations...
From Hebrew it’s translated to Arabic, from Arabic to Greek, from Greek to Latin, from Latin to Russian, from Russian to German, from German to an old form of English that you could not read. Through 400 years of evolution of the English language...the book we have today...which is....
a translation of a translation of a translation of a translation of a translation of a copy of a copy of a copy of a copy of a copy of an oral history, passed down through 40 generations...
You can’t put a grocery list through that many translations, copies, and retellings and not get some big changes to the dinner menu when the kids make it back from EarthFare. And yet people are killing each other over this written word.
Here’s a tip: if you’re killing somebody in the name of G-d, you’re missing the message.
11. Liar Liar Pants on Fire
Liar liar, pants on fire
See you squirm, see you perspire
Not a word you say is true
There’s never been one out of you
Smoke & mirrors, bait and switch
You and your friends are getting rich
Picking pockets, pulling strings
And other more despicable things
Liar Liar, pants on fire
Preaching only to the choir
Photo op in front of the steeple
How did you manage to fool these people?
Talk the lingo, dress the part
Even put your hand on your heart
Bomber jacket, emperor’s clothes
You can’t even reach the end of your nose
Liar liar, pants on fire
Chain of command doesn’t get any higher
Orders come down from the top
Punish the guy who pushes the mop
Throw away the key and forget about bail
The likes of you ought to rot in jail
Guilty! Guilty of the highest crimes
And the lowest ones at the very same time
Liar liar, pants on fire
Teleprompter, hidden wire
Who’s this G-d that speaks to you
Who would authorize the things you do?
Bend the rules, twist the facts
Make excuses, cover your tracks
Why won’t you let anybody see
The flag-draped coffins on tv?
Liar liar, been found out
Whistleblowers talked about
How you classify & cook the books
For the benefit of a bunch of crooks
12. Two Left Feet
There was one certain girl I was hoping to meet
Would have asked her to dance but for my two left feet
She wasn’t sitting with anyone else
I was just sitting there all by myself
I said I didn’t dance, I have two left feet
To this other girl, standing over me in my seat
Besides it wasn’t really my kind of beat
And this wasn’t the girl I was hoping to meet
I wasn’t attracted, not on first glance
She wouldn’t go away, I didn’t want to dance
She lifted me up to my two left feet
My eyes went to the girl I was hoping to meet
I was thinking I could make a break for the door
But she pulled me out there onto the dance floor
The band started in on an old fashioned waltz
She didn’t lead so I did by default
It was awkward enough, those very first steps
I stepped on her right toes and then on her left
Evading her eyes I tried to be discreet
Keeping tabs on the girl I was hoping to meet
Her hand on my waist made me relax
She moved it up to the small of my back
Touching a nerve, I shot her a glance
She said “I thought you told me you couldn’t dance
She pointed down at my right foot
Going to all the right places, wherever I’d put it
She followed me when I spun her around
And when I dipped her all the way down
The way her hair fell back, and hung to the floor
The way we locked eyes then, and forevermore
The thing about beauty, and I don’t know why
Sometimes you don’t see it ‘till it pokes you in the eye
The one song ended & another began
We exchanged names and applauded the band
I guess I never did let go of her hand
For the next couple hours we danced & we danced
Now we go out dancing every Saturday night
She dresses up and she’s quite a sight
This was the girl I didn’t want to meet
But that was the guy with two left feet
13. The Ballad of D.B. Cooper
He was carrying a briefcase
When he stepped aboard the plane
Northwest 305 from Portland
On the tarmac in the rain
Dressed in loafers & a dark suit
Underneath an overcoat
A white shirt & a black tie
That was loose around the throat
It was Thanksgiving eve
Back in 1971
He had on a pair of sunglasses
There wasn’t any sun
He used the name Dan Cooper
When he paid for the flight
That was going to Seattle
On that cold and nasty night
They taxied to the runway
And then took to the sky
Cooper let a little
Bit of time go by
Before he called the flight attendant
And told her to stay calm
But that inside his briefcase
He said he had a bomb
Two hundred thousand dollars
In 20 dollar bills
A plane, a crew, some parachutes
& No one would get killed
They landed in Seattle
The authorities complied
All the passengers were let off
The crew remained inside
The plane took off for Portland
Just Cooper & the crew
It wasn’t quite an hour
When he bid them all adieu
But first he tipped each one of them
Two thousand bucks apiece
He was such a nice man
They later told the police
Out a little service doorway
In the rear of the plane
Cooper jumped into the darkness
Into the freezing rain
They say that with the windchill
It was 69 below
Not much chance that he’d survive
But if he did where did he go?
Some guy who lived in Oregon
By the name of DB Cooper
Was arrested and interrogated
By a couple of state troopers
It wasn’t him who did it
The lawmen had no luck
But the papers ran the story
The name DB Cooper stuck
It was on a family picnic
8 or 9 years later
Six thousand muddy dollars
Found by a 2nd grader
On the banks of the Columbia
Which would’ve been on his route
Authorities confirmed
That it was part of Cooper’s loot
Whoever DB Cooper was
Today is still a mystery
The only unsolved skyjacking
In aviation history
No one’s ever tried to claim
The very large reward
No one’s ever seen him since
He bailed out the door
Divers search the river
Every summer still
For an article of clothing
Or a twenty dollar bill
A briefcase or a wallet
With some kind of ID
To determine who this DB Cooper
Might actually be