Song Album 1. the Road to Bayamon Road to Bayamon 2. Blue Wing

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TOM RUSSELL

Song Album

1. The Road to Bayamon Road to Bayamon

2. Blue Wing Poor Man’s Dream

3. Gallo del Cielo Poor Man’s Dream

4. Navajo Rug Poor Man’s Dream

5. A Bad Half Hour Cowboy Real

6. Claude Dallas Cowboy Real

7. The Rose of the San Joaquin The Rose of the San Joaquin

8. The Sky Abow, The Mud Below Song of the West

9. Hallie Lonnigan Song of the West

10. Alkali Song of the West

11. The Dreamin’ The Man from God Knows Where

12. Sitting Bull in Venice The Man from God Knows Where

13. Where the Dream Begins Borderland

14. What Work Is Borderland

15. Isaac Lewis Modern Art

16. Tijuana Bible Modern Art

17. Tonight We Ride Indians Cowboys Horses and Dogs

18. Who’s Gonna Build Your Wall? Immigration Suite THE ROAD TO BAYAMON BLUE WING

All You possum-belley queens get out of here He had a blue wing tattooed on his shoulder Gypsy's out for blood tonight might have been a bluebird, I don't know She's got love and hate tattooed on her fist but he got stone drunk and he talked about She's drunk and she's ready to fight Alaska salmon boats and 45 below She used to run a little shot end beer joint Now she's a jockey on the Astro ride well he got that blue wing at Walla Walla She took me for a whirl one night and his cellmate was a Little Willy John Man it messed me up inside Willie, he was once a great blues singer so Wing & Willie wrote him up a song Ay-Ay-Ay, oh the rain How long can this rain go on sang, it's dark in here, can't see the light There's nothing sadder than a carnival but I look at this blue wing when I close my On the road to Bayamon eyes and I fly away, beyond these walls In a parking lot down in old San Juan up above the clouds, where the rain don't fall On the road to Bayamon on a poor man's dreams We set up the tents and the alibi joints And the freak show from Lyon well they broke blue wing in August in 1963 and blue wing moved on, picking apples in We had French Canadian racketeers the town of Wenatchee And rednecks from down South winter finally caught him in a rundown trailer And the Puerto Rican pistol boys park With a boa constrictor mouths on the south side of Seattle where the days grow long and dark Ay-Ay-Ay, oh the rain How long can this rain go on and he drank and he dreamt a vision of when There's nothing sadder than a carnival the seven still ran free On the road to Bayamon and his father's fathers crossed that wide old Bering sea Then the wirewalker started drinking hard the land belonged to everyone, there were old The payroll check never came songs yet to sing And somebody stoled a little twoheaded cat now, it's broken down to a cheap hotel and a The midway drown in rain tattooed prison wing

Yeh, it rained through the month of April now, it's dark in here ... And the first two weeks of May And all across the island well he drank his way to heaven and that's I can hear the children sing where he died and no one knew his Christian name, and Ay-Ay-Ay, oh the rain there was no one there who cried How long can this rain go on but I dreamt that there was a service, a There's nothing sadder than a carnival preacher in an old pine box On the road to Bayamon and halfway through the service, the wing began to talk

he said, it's dark in here ...

GALLO DEL CIELO

Carlos Zaragoza left his home in Casas Grandes when the moon was full No money in his pocket, just a locket of his sister framed in gold He rode into El Sueco, stole a rooster called Gallo Del Cielo Then he swam the Rio Grande with that fighter nestled deep beneath his arm.

El Gallo Del Cielo was a rooster born in heaven so the legends say His wings they had been broken, he had one eye rollin' crazy in his head And he'd fought a hundred fights, and the legends say that one night near El Sueco They'd fought Gallo seven times, and seven times he'd left brave roosters dead.

Hola, my Theresa, I am thinking of you now in San Antonio I have 27 dollars and the good luck of your picture framed in gold Tonight I'll put it all on the fighting spurs of Gallo Del Cielo And then I'll return to buy the land Villa stole from father long ago.

Outside of San Diego, in the onion fields of Paco Monteverde The Pride of San Diego lay sleeping on a fancy bed of silk And they laughed when Zaragoza pulled the one-eyed del Cielo from beneath his coat But they cried when Zaragoza walked away with a thousand dollar bill.

Hola, my Theresa, I am thinking of you now in Santa Barbara I have fifteen hundred dollars and the good luck of your picture framed in gold Tonight I'll put it all on the fighting spurs of Gallo Del Cielo And then I'll return to buy the land Villa stole from father long ago.

Now the moon has gone to hiding and the lantern light spills shadows on a fighting sand Where a wicked black named Zorro faces Gallo del Cielo in the night But Carlos Zaragoza fears the tiny crack that runs across his rooster's beak And he fears he has lost the fifty thousand dollars riding on the fight.

Hola, my Theresa, I am thinking of you now in Santa Clara Yes, the money's on the table, I am holding to your good luck framed in gold And everything we've dreamed of is riding on the spurs of Del Cielo I pray that I'll return to buy the land Villa stole from father long ago.

Then the signal it was given, and the cocks rose together far above the sand El Gallo del Cielo sunk a gaff into Zorro's shiny breast They were separated quickly but they rose and fought each other thirty seven times And the legends say that everyone agreed that del Cielo fought the best.

Then the screams of Zaragoza filled the night outside the town of Santa Clara As the beak of del Cielo lay broken like a shell within his hand And they say that Zaragoza screamed a curse upon the bones of Pancho Villa When Zorro rose up one last time and drove del Cielo through the sand.

Hola, my Theresa, I am thinking of you now in San Francisco I have no money in my pocket, I no longer have your good luck framed in gold I buried it last evening with the bones of my beloved Del Cielo And I'll not return to buy the land Villa stole from father long ago.

Do the rivers still run muddy outside of my beloved Casas Grandes? Does the scar upon my brother's face turn red when he hears mention of my name? Do the people of El Sueco curse the theft of Gallo del Cielo? Well, tell my family not to worry, I will not return to cause them shame. I suppose a lot of people have heard the story of how I quit the music business and moved to New York in 1980, with a wife and two little kids, my daughters Jessica and Shannon.

I had a literary agent at William Morris, who was shopping a novel of mine. I wrote about four manuscripts and they all came close. I ended up in an attic out on Rockaway Beach, very much like Jack Nicholson in The Shining. I didn't write anything. I went nuts and got a job driving cab. That's when I met my guitar playing friend Andrew Hardin. He was driving cab.

Well, the funny part of the story: I was driving through Rockaway Park at four in the morning and picked up Robert Hunter, the Grateful Dead lyricist. He had his guitar and a glass of Jack Daniels. He'd been doing a solo gig out there. So we're talking, and I tell him I'm songwriter. He says the usual: "Yeah, sure you are. Sing me one of your songs."

And I had just written "Gallo del Cielo," the long song of mine about rooster fighting. Joe Ely and Ian Tyson recorded it. Hunter listens intently and smiles. Then he has me sing it again and again. We're riding around through Queens. He ran up the meter to 300 dollars and demanded a cassette tape of the song. He loved it. We got back to my house, and I woke up my wife and got a tape. I took him to the motel. He says he's gonna give it to the Dead or the New Riders or something. Off he goes. I don't expect to hear from him again, but I enjoyed the ride.

He calls me up a few weeks later, and invites me to a concert at the Bitter End in NYC. Halfway through the show, I'm standing there half-drunk on his Jack Daniels, and he starts talking about a song he heard from a cab driver. About a chicken. Then he says, "Ah hell, let's just get him up here to sing it."

I hadn't played in a year. I was scared. I walked up there and he hands me the guitar and splits. I'm looking down at five hundred Dead Heads. I sang the song … somehow … it's seven minutes long. They loved it. I looked around for Hunter and he was still gone. I sang three more. I was a hit. He came back and hired me and Andrew Hardin to open some shows for him.

And that's what got me back into the music business. Hunter wrote a lot of Grateful Dead classics, and he wrote with Bob Dylan. Years later, I got a cassette tape of a performance of his in London. He sings "Gallo del Cielo," and the audience goes nuts, and he says: "That was a song I learned from a taxi driver in Jamaica Queens!"

Thank you Robert Hunter. I am still on the road.

NAVAJO RUG Well I saw old Jack about a year ago Well it's three eggs up on whiskey toast He said the place burned to the ground Homefries on the side And all he saved was an old bear tooth Wash it down with truckstop coffee And Katie she left town Burns up your inside But Katie she got her a souvenir too Just a Canyon, Colorado diner Jack spat out a tabacco plug And a waitress I did love He said "You shoulda seen her runnin' through the We sat in the back 'neath an old stuffed bear smoke And a worn out Navajo rug Draggin' that Navajo rug."

Well old Jack the boss he'd close at six Now everytime I cross the sacred mountains Then it's Katie bar the door And lightning breaks above She'd pull down that Navajo rug It always takes me back in time And she'd spread it 'cross the floor To my long lost Katie love Hey I saw lightning in the sacred mountains Ah but everything keeps on movin' Saw the dance of the turtle doves And everyone's on the go Lyin' next to Katie They don't make things that last anymore On that old Navajo rug Like a double-woven Navajo

Ai-yi-yi, Katie, shades of red and blue Katie, shades of red and blue Ai-yi-yi, Katie Ay-yi-yi, Katie Whatever became of the Navajo rug and you? Whatever became of the Navajo rug and you?

THE DREAMIN’

Oh whiskey is the life of man; but whiskey’s mostly water and it’s whiskey fuels the worker and corrupts his only daughter The mountain water’s in the still, the copper pipes are steamin’ they’ll soon be whiskey in the glass, and dreamers gone to dreaming

Oh it’s the dreaming, it’s the dreaming A young girl’s prayer, an old man’s thoughts a reelin’ Two lovers stealin’, the moonlight beamin’ Oh, it’s the dreamin’, it’s the dreamin’

Oh I met her down in Dublin town, like a bottle fly I fell To the spider in the blackbush of, the old railway hotel I spun my web from Liffey’s walls, the back rooms down at Whelans But oh, how sweet my poison now, is drowning in the dreaming

Oh it’s the dreaming, it’s the dreaming A young girl’s prayer, an old man’s thoughts a reelin’ Two lovers stealin’, the moonlight beamin’ Oh, it’s the dreamin’, it’s the dreamin’

Oh whiskey’s made of water, lads. Barley, corn or malt and man and woman’s water mixed with poetry and salt Bring on the pullin’ of the tides, the flash of eyes a gleamin’ then passion blends the elements – the yeast is but the dreaming.

Oh it’s the dreaming, it’s the dreaming A young girl’s prayer, an old man’s thoughts a reelin’ Two lovers stealin’, the moonlight beamin’ The search for meanin’, leads through the dreamin’

Oh whiskey is the life of man…

WHERE THE DREAM BEGINS

What happened to the kid in the baseball cap? Well he’s trying to get home but I think he lost the map What happened to the kid with the braces on his teeth? He had an autographed picture of Muhammad Ali He’s just a wise-assed, buck-toothed, near-sighted fool Always staring at the girls in the swimming pool Thirty years later and he’s staring again He’s searching for the place where the dreams begin Searching for the place where the dream begins

Then he bought a bunch of records and he heard a man sing He said if I could write a song I believe I’d be a king But it took him twenty years until he got the nerve He’s got boxes full of papers and papers full of words And the words fly away like swallows on the wind But they never flew back to the nest again Never took him to the place where the dream begins

Then he finally got married and he had two little girls But he didn’t see ‘em much cause he had to see the world And the lie that he told ‘em is I’m like most men It’s always down the road that the dream begins And the girls grew up to be pretty and wise They said “you could have seen the dream by looking in our eyes You were always living in the world of pretend You kept running away from where the dream begins Running away from where the dream begins"

Now he’s living with a woman out on Borderland Road But her love’s turned bitter, and her eyes turned cold She said we came to the desert, let the sickness mend But Hell ain’t the place where the dreams begin Look out boys I’m gaining on you He’s old Blind Joe Death in his alligator shoes He’s got a pocket full of pills and a pint of sloe gin He’s gonna show you to the place where the dream begins Follow him down where the dream begins

At the end of the road there ain’t nothing but fear Just a big old room with a big old mirror And the man in the mirror his hair’s turning gray And his hands begin to shake in a funny kind of way He’s knows everything you bring for to save you soul Everything denied will condemn you to the hole With his hand on his heart he picks up his pen He goes searching for the place where the dream begins Looking for the place where the dream begins

What happened to the kid in the baseball cap? He’s trying to get home but I think he’s lost the map.

ISAAC LEWIS

My name is Isaac Lewis, I'm an able bodied man On the ship the Royal Charter bound off for Van Damien's land Oh, the sea that took six months to cross we could do in two So it's up that Mersey river out of Liverpool we flew And some of us were sailors, all hearties young and old And some of us were pioneers bound off for the gold There were merchants and musicians, Christian soldiers of the cross We stared into that foamy sea, saw our dreams there in the broth Sail on, Sail on and on and on My name is Isaac Lewis and this shall be my song

So we landed there in Botany bay and the boys went on the town And I met a girl named Emma Gray and I loved her up and down And I swore that I'd return for her, one more tour of sea But I had to tell my father what he ment to me For every night I dreamed a dream as the wind swept through the sails That I was in my father's house back in Northern Wales And I reached for my father, I said I love You very much But the ship rolled o'er and the dream was drowned before we got to touch Sail on, Sail on and on and on My name is Isaac Lewis and this shall be my song

So I kissed the lips of Emma Gray and set sail for Liverpool And the parrots perched in the rigging, boys, and the dolphins swam in schools Our trip it was a pleasant one till we reached the coast of Wales And one day out from Liverpool God unleashed the gale Good Lord I've seen some squalls, me boys, and hurricanes at sea And many nights I'd rediscovered faith on bended knee But I've never seen it blow so hard we anchored her at last But the waves rolled o'er the top of us, we had to cut the masts

And all the mining magnates clutched their gold believing they'd be saved But their bloody creep destroyed them first beneath the angry waves All the women and the children lost to eternity Ah, man has tamed and shaped the land, he'll never tame the sea And every night I had dreamed the dream as the winds swept through the sails That I was in my father's house back in Northern Wales And I reached for my father, I said I love You very much But the ship rolled o'er and the dream was drowned before we got to touch Sail on, mmm... My name is Isaac Lewis and this shall be my song

We were caught upon the rocks just ten yards from the shore And we saw men standing on those rocks, maybe three or more And I swear I saw my father wawing at me through the squall And I screamed that I was coming home, that's all that I recall For the waves they swept me overboard with broken mast and sails And I drowned where as a child I'd fished on the rocks of Northern Wales And in three days time I washed upon the white and sandy shore One hundred yards from Moelfre, my father's white oak door Sail on, Sail on and on and on My name is Isaac Lewis and this shall be my song

And some will shout coincidence, or say this can't be true I only say just tell your loved ones what they mean to you For you shall sail the seas of life pursuing golden schemes Yet drown so closely to your home, cradle of your dreams Sail on, Sail on and on and on My name is Isaac Lewis and this has been my song TIJUANA BIBLE

Lana Turner's daughter killed Johnny Stompanato 'cause Johnny beat up Lana down on fifth in Alvarado The Collins kids were playing rockabilly on the TV While Johnny rode an icetruck down the brand new harbor freeway They buried him at sundown with the mariachi band and a Tijuana Bible in his hand

My office faced McArthur park, it had a perfect bed I acted once in Dragnet, Lord I got to meet Jack Webb I'm knew Stompanato secrets, weren't in no Maltese Island I believe the clues were hidden in that Tijuana Bible I dug up Stompanato, through six feet of rock and sand Stole Tijuana Bible from his hand

I got home and cracked the book, it's full of sex cartoons Daisy Duck and Gary Grant in a Tijuana bedroom I held it to a candle flame and tried to find the code I held it there a bit too long the goddam thing exploded I woke up in the General with a ringing in my ears And the Tijuana Bible disappeared

TONIGHT WE RIDE

Pancho Villa crossed the border in the year of ought sixteen The people of Columbus still hear him riding through their dreams He killed seventeen civilians you could hear the women scream Blackjack Pershing on a dancing horse was waiting in the wings

Tonight we ride, tonight we ride We'll skin ole Pancho Villa, make chaps out of his hide Shoot his horse, Siete Leguas, and his twenty-seven bride Tonight we ride, tonight we ride

We rode for three long years till Blackjack Pershing called it quits When Jackie wasn't lookin' I stole his fine spade bit It was tied upon his stallion, so I rode away on it To the wild Chihuahuan desert, so dry you couldn't spit

Tonight we ride, you bastards dare We'll kill the wild Apache for the bounty on his hair Then we'll ride into Durango, climb up the whorehouse stairs Tonight we ride, Tonight we ride

When I'm too damn old to sit a horse, I'll steal the warden's car Break my ass out of this prison, leave my teeth there in a jar You don't need no teeth for kissin' gals or smokin' cheap cigars I'll sleep with one eye open, 'neath God's celestial stars

Tonight we rock, Tonight we roll We'll rob the Juarez liquor store for the Reposado Gold And if we drink ourselves to death, ain't that the cowboy way to go?

Tonight we ride, tonight we ride Tonight we fly, we're headin' west Toward the mountains and the ocean where the eagle makes his nest If our bones bleach on the desert, we'll consider we are blessed Tonight we ride, Tonight we ride WHO’S GONNA BUILD YOUR WALL?

I‘ve got 800 miles of open border – right outside my door. There’s minute men in little pick up trucks who’ve decleared their own damn war. Now the government wants to build a barrier like old Berlin 8 feet tall – But if uncle Sam sends the illegals home who’s gonna build the wall?

Who’s gonna build your wall boys? Who’s gonna mow your lawn? Who’s gonna cook your mexican food when your mexican maid is gone? Who’s gonna wax the floors tonight down at the local mall? Who’s gonna wash your baby‘s face? Who’s gonna build your wall?

Now I ain’t got no politics so don’t lay that rap on me. Left wing, right wing, up wing, down wing, I see strip malls from sea to shining sea. It’s the fat cat white developer who’s created this whole damn squall. It’s a pyramid scheme of dirty jobs, and who’s gonna build your wall?

We’ve got fundamentalist moslems, we’ve got fundamentalist jews, we’ve got fundamentalist christians- They‘ll blow the whole thing up for you. But as I travel around this big old world, there’s one thing that I most fear. It’s a white man in a golf shirt with a cell phone in his ear.