I shall post Grateful Dead lyrics, most likely by myself. :5:
<div align="center">
Mama Tried</div>
The first I remember knowin' was that lonesome whistle blowin'
And a youngin's dream of growin' up to ride.
On a freight train leavin' town, not knowin' where I was bound
No one could steer me right, but mama tried.
Was the only rebel child from a family meek and mild
Mama seemed to know what lay in store
In spite of all my Sunday learnin'
For the bad I kept on turnin' and mama couldn't hold me anymore.
And I turned 21 in prison, doin' life without parole
No one could steer me right, but mama tried, mama tried
Mama tried to raise me better, but her pleadin' I denied
That leaves no one but me to blame cause mama tried.
Dear old daddy rest his soul, left my mom a heavy load
She tried so very hard to fill his shoes
Workin' hours without rest, wanted me to have the best
Oh she tried to raise me right, but I refused.
And I turned 21 in prison, doin' life without parole
No one could steer me right, but mama tried, mama tried
Mama tried to raise me better, but her pleadin' I denied
That leaves no one but me to blame cause mama tried.
<div align="center">Brokedown Palace
</div>
Fare you well, my honey, fare you well my only true one.
All the birds that were singing are flown, except you alone.
Going to leave this brokedown palace,
On my hand and knees, I will roll, roll, roll.
Make myself a bed in the waterside,
In my time, I will roll, roll roll.
In a bed, in a bed, by the waterside I will lay my head.
Listen to the river sing sweet songs, to rock my soul.
River going to take me, sing sweet and sleepy,
sing me sweet and sleepy all the way back home.
It's a far gone lullaby, sung many years ago.
Mama, mama many worlds I've come since I first left home.
Goin' home, goin' home, by the riverside I will rest my bones,
Listen to the river sing sweet songs, to rock my soul.
Going to plant a weeping willow,
On the bank's green edge it will grow, grow, grow.
Sing a lullaby beside the water,
Lovers come and go, the river roll, roll, roll.
Fare you well, fare you well, I love you more than words can tell,
Listen to the river sing sweet songs, to rock my soul.
Quote:most likely by myself.
:thumbs-up:
Beat It On Down The Line
Well this job I've got is just a little too hard,
Running out of money, Lord, I need more pay.
Gonna wake up in the morning Lord, gonna pack my bags,
I'm gonna beat it on down the line.
I'm goin' down the line, goin down the line,
Goin' down the line, goin down the line,
Goin' down the line, goin down the line,
Beat it on down the line.
Yes I'll be waiting at the station Lord, when that train pulls on by,
I'm going back where I belong.
I'm going back to that same old used-to-be,
Down in Joe Brown's coal mine.
Coal mine, coal mine, coal mine, coal mine.
Coal mine, coal mine, coal mine, coal mine.
Coal mine, coal mine, coal mine, coal mine.
Down in Joe Brown's coal mine.
Yeah, I'm goin' back to that shack way across that railroad track,
Uh huh, that's where I think I belong.
Got a sweet woman, Lord, and she's waiting there for me
And that's where I'm gonna make my happy home.
Happy home, happy home, happy home, happy home.
Happy home, happy home, happy home, happy home.
Happy home, happy home, happy home, happy home.
That's where I'm gonna make my happy home.
<div align="center">Brown Eyed Women</div>
Gone are the days when the ox fall down,
Take up the yoke and plow the fiends around.
Gone are the days when the ladies said' "Please,
Gentle Jack Jones won't you come to me."
Brown-eyed women and red grenadine,
The bottle was dusty but the liquor was clean.
Sound of the thunder with the rain pourin' down,
And it looks like the old man's gettin' on.
1929 when he stepped to the bar, drank to the dregs of the whiskey jar.
1030 when the wall caved in, he made his way selling red-eyed gin.
Brown-eyed women and red grenadine,
The bottle was dusty but the liquor was clean.
Sound of the thunder with the rain pourin' down,
And it looks like the old man's gettin' on.
Delilah Jones was the mother of twins,
Two times over and the rest were sins.
Raised eight boys, only I turned bad,
Didn't get the lickin's that the other ones had.
Brown-eyed women and red grenadine,
The bottle was dusty but the liquor was clean.
Sound of the thunder with the rain pourin' down,
And it looks like the old man's gettin' on.
Tumble down shack on Big Foot country.
Snowed so hard that the roof caved in.
Delilah Jones went to meet her God,
And the old man never was the same again.
Daddy made whiskey and he made it well.
Cost two dollars and it burned like Hell.
I cut hick'ry just to fire the still,
Drink down a bottle and be ready to kill.
Brown-eyed women and red grenadine,
The bottle was dusty but the liquor was clean.
Sound of the thunder with the rain pourin' down,
And it looks like the old man's gettin' on.
Gone are the days when the ox fall down,
Take up the yoke and plow the fiends around.
Gone are the days when the ladies said' "Please,
Gentle Jack Jones won't you come to me."
Brown-eyed women and red grenadine,
The bottle was dusty but the liquor was clean.
Sound of the thunder with the rain pourin' down,
<div align="center">Mason's Children</div>
Mason died on Monday, we bricked him in the wall
All his children grew and grew, they ain't never grown so tall before
They may never grow so tall again
We dug him up on Tuesday, he hardly aged a day
Taught us all we ever knew, we ain't never known so much before
We may never know so much again
The wall collapsed on Wednesday, we chalked it up to fate
Mason's children ran and flew, they ain't never run so fast before
Swore they'd never show their face again
Mason was a mighty man, a mighty man was he
Always said when I'm dead I'm gone, don't you weep for me
Thursday came then Friday, with buyers tall and bright
Mason's children cooked the stew and cleaned up when the feast was through
Take me to the repo-man to pay back what is owed
If he's in some other land write it off as stole
Let It Grow
Morning comes, she follows the path to the river shore,
Lightly sung, her song is the latch on the morning's door.
See the sun sparkle in the reeds, silver beads, pass into the sea.
She comes from a town where they call her the woodcutter's daughter,
She's brown as the bank where she kneels down to gather her water, and
She bears it away with a love that the river has taught her.
Let it flow, greatly grow, wide and clear.
Round and round, the cut of the plow in the furrowed field,
Seasons round, the bushels of corn and the barley meal,
Broken ground, open and beckoning to the spring,
Black dirt live again!
The plowman is broad as the back of the land he is sowing,
As he dances the circular track of the plow ever knowing
That the work of his day measures more than the planting and growing
Let it grow, Let it grow, Greatly yield.
What shall we say, shall we call it by a name,
As well to count the angels dancing on a pin.
Water bright as the sky from which it came,
And the name is on the earth that takes it in.
We will not speak but stand inside the rain,
And listen to the thunder shouting "I am! I am! I am! I am."
Nothin' more, the love of the women, work of men.
Seasons round, creatures great and small, up and down as we rise and fall.