Another Saturday night
And I ain’t got nobody
I got some money 'cause I just got paid
Now, how I wish I had someone to talk to
I’m in an awful way
You talk too much,
You worry me to death,
You talk too much,
You even worry my pet…
nd Music by Tom Paxton
Saturday night and the bar is packed.
The drinks are watered and the decks are stacked.
The whores are grinning with their faces cracked,
And the gamblers cursing the horses they backed.
Saturday night and the bar is jammed.
We’ve got our table and the rest be damned.
Our waiter’s are hovering near at hand.
We’re loaded earlier than we planned.
Some damn fool is starting a fight,
Why does he wait for Saturday night?
It’s quarter to three
There’s no one in the place 'cept you and me
So set ‘em’ up joe
I got a little story I think you oughtta know
We’re drinking my friend
To the end of a brief episode
So make it one for my baby
And one more for the road
I know the routine
Put another nickel in that there machine
I’m feeling so bad
Won’t you make the music easy and sad
I could tell you a lot
But you gotta to be true to your code
So make it one for my baby
And one more for the road
Hey Joe
Where you gonna run to now, where you gonna go?
Hey Joe, I said
Where you gonna run to now, where you gonna go?
I’m goin’ way down south
Way down to Mexico way
Alright
This is a story about Billy Joe and Bobbie Sue
Two young lovers with nothin’ better to do
Than sit around the house, get high, and watch the tube
And here is what happened when they decided to cut loose
They headed down to, ooh, old El Paso
That’s where they ran into a great big hassle
Billy Joe shot a man while robbing his castle
Bobbie Sue took the money and run
We don’t wipe our asses on old glory,
God and Lone Star Beer are things we trust.
We keep our women virgins till they’re married
So hosin’ sheep is good enough for us.
And I’m proud to be an asshole from El Paso
A place where sweet young virgins are deflowered.
You walk down the street knee-deep in tacos
Ta-ta-ta-tacos
And the wetbacks still get twenty cents an hour.
Out in the West Texas town of El Paso
I fell in love with a Mexican girl
Nighttime would find me in Rosa’s cantina
Music would play and Felina would whirl
Blacker than night were the eyes of Felina
Wicked and evil while casting a spell
My love was deep for this Mexican maiden
I was in love, but in vain I could tell
Uncle Slayton’s got his Texan pride
Back in the thickets with his Asian bride
He’s got a Airstream trailer and a Holstein cow
He still makes whiskey 'cause he still knows how
He plays that Choctaw bingo every Friday night
You know he had to leave Texas but he won’t say why
t was the third of June another sleepy dusty Delta day
I was out choppin’ cotton and my brother was bailin’ hay
And at dinner time we stopped and walked back to the house to eat
And mama hollered at the backdoor y’all remember to wipe your feet
And then she said I got the news this mornin’ from Choctaw Wridge
Today Billie Joe Macallister’s jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge
Papa said to mama as he passed around the black eyed peas
Well Billie Joe never had a lick of sense pass the biscuits please
There’s five more acres in the lower forty I got to plow
And mama said it was a shame about Billie Joe anyhow
Seems like nothing ever comes to no good upon Choctaw Wridge
And now Billie Joe Macallister’s jumped off the Tallahatchie Bridge
You make our black-eyed peas and our grits, Mame
Seem like the bill of fare at the Ritz, Mame
You came, you saw, you conquered
And absolutely nothing is the same
Your special fascination’ll
Prove to be inspirational
We think you’re just sensational, Mame
Mama, just killed a man
Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger, now he’s dead
Mama, life had just begun
But now I’ve gone and thrown it all away
Mama, ooh, didn’t mean to make you cry
If I’m not back again this time tomorrow
Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters
I think of childhood friends and the dreams we had
We live happily forever so the story goes
But somehow we missed out on that pot of gold
But we’ll try best that we can to carry on
No pot of gold at the end of the rainbow
No social ladder to climb around here
No panhandlers going to stake any claim here
Goldmine is not what it’s worth, know the score
No sun - no moon!
No morn - no noon -
No dawn - no dusk - no proper time of day.
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member -
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds! -
November!
Breathe deep the gathering gloom,
Watch lights fade from every room.
Bedsitter people look back and lament,
Another day’s useless energy spent.
Impassioned lovers wrestle as one,
Lonely man cries for love and has none.
Down in the barroom it was loaded with servicemen
Elbow to elbow
I said, “‘Scuze me blood, just what is shakin’?”
He say, “Girls on the dance floor wrestling in jello”
And the joint was jammin’ from the pumpin’ by the D.J.
There were rappin’ and clappin’ when up steps Little Sheba
I am the morning DJ on WOLD,
Playing all the hits for you wherever you may be,
The bright good-morning voice who’s heard but never seen,
Feeling all of forty-five, going on fifteen.
He’s 39 and holding,
Holding whatever he can…
Oh, let it rock, let it roll
Let the bible belt come and save my soul
Holdin’ on to sixteen as long as you can
Change is coming 'round real soon
Make us woman and man