“From the railhead to the dockyard,
from the factory to the farm,
from the mine to the millyard,
I’ve weathered the storm.
From the barroom to the bedpost
I’ve wasted my days,
all I have is my drink
and the time left to think,
while the time slips away.”
Gordon Lightfoot
“Give me a horse, a great big horse,
and give me a buckeroo,
and let me wahoo, wahoo, wahoo.
Give me a ranch, and a big pair of pants,
and give me a stetson too,
and let me wahoo, wahoo, wahho.
Give me those wide open spaces.
I’m just like a prairie flower,
growin wilder every hour.
Give me a turkey, a hunk of beef jerky
and dishup some doggie stew,
and let me wahoo, wahoo, wahoo.
I never could sing a high class thing,
good music I never knew.
But I can wahoo, wahoo, wahoo.
I never could dance cause when I dance
I ruin the ladies shoes.
But I can wahoo, wahoo, wahoo.
It’s just a gift from the prairie.
You shout it when a bad jigs,
it’s might good for calling pigs.
I never could speak a word of greek.
I could never shoo-be-do-be-do.
But I can wahoo, wahoo, wahoo.
Why did the wildcat get so wild,
he didn’t know what to do?
He couldn’t wahoo, wahoo, wahoo.
Why did the Zulu warrior lose the batttle of Timbuktu?
He couldn’t wahoo, wahoo, wahoo.
The world has wahooed for ages.
Some like to wahoo soft and low,
others like to let it go.
Why did ol’ Sitting Bull sit around feeling blue?
He couldn’t wahoo, wahoo, wahoo.”
Red Clay Ramblers
“The panic bird just flew inside my chest. Some days it lights inside my brain, but today it’s in my bonehouse, rattling ribs like a birdcage.” Robert Phillips
“Now as the dark gathers into the sky
and legions of might go thundering by
regions of light grow dim and then die
and we with our wings
wait for morning to fly.
Here where the angels
have appeared and are gone
your face like an ember
glows in the dawn
But I want you to remember
all wild deeds live on
all good times, all good friends
all good things got to come to an end.”
Jackson Browne
“When we stride or stroll across a frozen lake, we place our feet where they have never been. We walk upon the unwalked. But we are uneasy. Who is down there but our old teachers?” Robert Bly
“The gypies know my future
the angels know my past.
I roll around this big wide world
to find a love to last.
I’m weary from my wandering
Lord I’m wounded in a war
I’ll lay me low where the willows grow
listen to that river song
river runs by my window
river runs by my door
river runs sp sweet might
never roam no more.
might never roam no more.”
Tom Rush
“Sailing down my golden river,
sun and water all my own.
But I was never alone.
Sun and water, oh, life giver.
I’ll have them where ever I roam.
And I was not far from home.
Sunlight gleaming on the water,
life and death are all my own,
Yet I was never alone.
Like to raise my sons and daughters,
golden sparkles in the foam.
And I was not far from home.
Sailing down this winding highway,
travellers from near and far.
Yet I was never alone.
Exploring all the little byways,
sighting all the distant stars.
And I was not far from home.
Sailing down my golden river,
sun and water all my own.
Yet I was not far from home.”
Pete Seeger
“There is a town in north Ontario, dream comfort memory to spare, in my mind I still need a place to go, all my changes were there. Blue, blue windows behind he stars, yellow moon on the rise, big bird fly across the sky throwing shadows on our eyes leave us helpless, helpless, helpless, helpless.”