MUMBO JUMBO

 

ANNIE B.

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

 

BACK IN '93,

MY UNCLE, JOSEPH, WENT TO SEA.

IN OUR FAMILY,

MEN WOULD WORK THE ABLE "ANNIE B."

OUT ON THE BANKS,

PULLING COD AND MACKEREL 

FROM THE SEA.

 

BACK IN '03,

JOE AND SHARON MADE A FAMILY.

FIRST CAME LITTLE MARY.

THEN WAS BORN MY COUSIN, CHARLIE.

IN THE AFTERNOONS,

AFTER SCHOOL WE'D SCRUB

THE "ANNIE B."

 

BACK IN '13,

MY UNCLE, JOE, WAS LOST AT SEA.

I GOT THE WORD,

WORKING DOWN AT THE CANNERY.

IN A SUMMER SQUALL,

THE COLD ATLANTIC CLAIMED 

THE "ANNIE B." 

 

BACK IN '23,

MY COUSIN, CHARLIE, WENT TO SEA.

IN OUR FAMILY,

MEN WOULD WORK THE NEW "ANNIE B."

OUT ON THE BANKS,

PULLING COD AND MACKEREL

FROM THE SEA.

 

BEBOPBEAT

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

 

NEVER WORK FROM 9 TO 5,

OR BUY INTO THAT BOURGEOIS JIVE.

NEVER WEAR A SUIT AND TIE,

AND WORK IN A CUBICLE

UNTIL YOU DIE.

NEVER SHINE THOSE

FLORSHEIM SHOES.

DON’T PAY TAX

OR UNION DUES.

DON’T START A

NUCLEAR FAMILY.

JUST KEEP IT REAL,

AND KEEP IT FREE.

BEBOPBEAT,

CAN YOU DIG IT?

DIG IT!

BEBOPBEAT,

CAN YOU DIG IT?

DIG IT!

NO MADRAS SHIRTS,

OR FLAT TOPHAIR.

NO RIN TIN TIN,

OR YOGI BEAR.

NO SHAG CARPETS

WALL TOWALL.

NO GOLF CLUBS,

OR BOWLING BALLS.

NO STATION WAGON

WITH FAKE WOOD PANELS.

NO BLACK AND WHITE T.V.

WITH JUST ONE CHANNEL.

NO SUBURBAN HOUSE

WITH FRESH MOWED LAWN.

JUST KEEP IT COOL,

AND GET REAL GONE.

NO UGLY EDSELS,

OR DOIN’ THE TWIST.

NO HOUSE UNAMERICAN

COMMIE LIST.

NO GREEN STAMPS,

OR HULA HOOPS.

NO HOWDY DOODY,

NO BOY SCOUT TROOP.

NO TRICKY DICK,

OR I LIKE IKE.

NO CARDS IN THE SPOKES

OF YOUR BIKE.

NO FIVE AND DIME,

NO DRIVE-IN MOVIE.

JUST GET REAL GONE,

AND KEEP IT GROOVY.

 

BLUE YODEL #1 WITH A BULLET

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

 

T FOR TAXES

T FOR TYRANNY

T FOR TROUBLE

THAT JUST WON'T

LET ME BE

BIG CIGAR A&R MEN

MADE A POOR BOY

OUTTA ME

 

SOLD MY SOUL

TO THE STREAMERS

GAVE iTUNES

ALL MY TRACKS

SOLD OUT

TO THE STREAMERS

GAVE AWAY 

MY TRACKS

NOW, I'M RIDIN'

A BONEY MULE

WHILE THEY'RE

CRUISIN' IN CADILLACS

 

IF I WAS

MUDDY WATERS

SITTIN' ON A 

HOLLOW LOG.

IF I WAS MUDDY

SITTIN' ON A LOG

WITH NO AUTO-TUNE

OR SAMPLED LOOPS

I'D LAY IT DOWN

IN ANALOG

 

HAD A 

RED RIVER RANCH

AND A FARM

IN LEIPER'S FORK

A PANHANDLE RANCH

AND A FARM

IN LEIPER'S FORK

NOW I'M DOWN

IN DEBTOR'S PRISON

WAITIN' FOR MY DAY

IN COURT

 

M FOR MUZAK

M FOR MIDDLE

OF THE ROAD

M FOR MADONNA

M FOR MANILOW

M FOR McCREA

CUZ I JUST CAN'T

LET IT GO

 

YODEL AY E

YODEL AY E

YODEL AY E

 

BOOGALOO DOWN BOURBON STREET

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/ bmi

 

HEADIN’ OUT OF MEMPHIS,

WITH THE SETTING SUN.

DRIVIN’ THROUGH THE DELTA,

ON HIGHWAY 61.

THIS FLATHEAD FORD IS KNOCKIN’,

THESE OLD TIRES SING A TUNE,

AND THE COTTONFIELDS GLOW LIKES GHOSTS

IN THE LIGHT OF THE MOON.

AND WE’RE ROLLIN’, WE’RE ROLLIN’…

 

WE’RE GONNA BOOGALOO DOWN BOURBON STREET,

WITH THE WILD TCHOUPITOULAS AND DR. JOHN.

BOOGALOO DOWN BOURBON STREET,

WE’RE GONNA PARTY ALL NIGHT LONG.

COME ON! COME ON!

 

ON THE BANKS OF THE BIG MUDDY,

ON A STEAMY SUMMER NIGHT.

BARGES PLY THE RIVER,

AND SWEEP THE SHORES

WITH THEIR SPOTLIGHTS.

ME AND GEORGE DICKEL,

JUST WATCHIN’ THAT RIVER FLOW,

ON DOWN TO NEW ORLEANS,

AND THE GULF OF MEXICO.

AND IT’S ROLLIN’, IT’S ROLLIN’…

 

WE’RE GONNA BOOGALOO DOWN BOURBON STREET,

WITH LOUIS ARMSTRONG AND SIDNEY BECHET.

BOOGALOO DOWN BOURBON STREET,

WE’RE GONNA PARTY ‘TIL THE BREAK OF DAY.

 

WE’RE GONNA BOOGALOO DOWN BOURBON STREET

WITH ALLEN TOUSSAINT AND FATS DOMINO.

BOOGALOO DOWN BOURBON STREET,

WE’RE GONNA PARTY,

C’MON, LET’S GO! LET’S GO!

 

BRAND NEW SHADE OF BLUE

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

 

YOU AND ME,

WE’VE TRAVELED DOWN THIS ROAD BEFORE.

TRYING TO KEEP

THESE LIES FROM COMING TRUE.

ONCE AGAIN,

WE’RE STANDING AT THIS OPEN DOOR,

TRYING TO KEEP

OURSELVES FROM WALKING THROUGH.

AND, AS THE SHADOWS FALL

ON THE AVENUE.

THIS STRANGE SAD NIGHT

TURNS A BRAND NEW SHADE OF BLUE.

 

YOU AND ME,

WE’VE SAILED UPON THIS STORMY SEA.

CHARTING EVERY ROCK,

AND EVERY HIDDEN REEF.

ONCE AGAIN,

WE’RE STRANDED ON SOME DISTANT SHORE,

RUN AGROUND,

MAROONED HERE WITH OUR GRIEF.

AND, AS THE SIRENS CALL

AND BECKON HEARTS ONCE SO TRUE,

THIS SEA OF LOVE

TURNS A BRAND NEW SHADE OF BLUE.

 

AND, AS THE ANGELS FALL

FROM GRACE, AND START ANEW,

EVEN HEAVEN

TURNS A BRAND NEW SHADE OF BLUE.

AND,  AS THE ANGELS FALL

FROM GRACE, AND START ANEW,

EVEN HEAVEN

TURNS A BRAND NEW SHADE OF BLUE.

 

CALIFORNIA CRUISIN’

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

 

DRIVIN’ THROUGH THE VALLEY

IN AN EL CAMINO

ASLEEP AT THE WHEEL 

PLAY THE PALOMINO.

DOWN PAST NUDIES

UP TO MULHOLLAND,

LOOKIN’ AT THE LIGHTS

THEN RUNNIN’ DOWN HIGHLAND.

STRUNG OUT STARLETS

STAGGER FROM LIMOUSINES.

STUMBLE DOWN SUNSET

TO THE SKYBAR POOL SCENE.

PACK OF PAPARAZZI

PHOTOFLOODS FLASHING,

IN A FEEDING FRENZY

OF MEDIA BASHING.

JIM OUT ON THE LEDGE

OF HIS MARMONT MADNESS,

TRYING TO FLY AWAY

FROM HIS WHISKEY SADNESS.

HOUSE OF BLUE MEANIES

VIPER ROOM VAMPIRES

FLOATING THROUGH THE HAZE

OF THIS SURREAL SATIRE.

 

CALIFORNIA CRUISIN’.

CALIFORNIA CRUISIN’.

 

LEAVING L.A.

GOTTA GET AWAY.

HEADIN’ FOR THE CITY

BY THE BAY,

THROUGH VENTURA

AND SANTA CRUZ,

NEPENTHE DRIVES

AWAY THE BLUES.

TASSAJARA SESSHIN

WIPES THE SLATE CLEAN.

BIG SUR SUMMERTIME,

BIG SURF SUNSHINE.

HANGIN’ WITH JACK 

IN BIXBY CANYON

DANCE AROUND THE FIRE

IN WILD ABANDON.

NORTH BEACH

TO THE SCENE IN SOMA,

FRISCO’S LOST

IN A SIXTIES’ COMA.

HIPPIES IN THE HAIGHT

THE AIRPLANE AT THE FILLMORE,

ACROSS THE GATE

TO A HOUSBOAT ON THE SHORE.

TRIPPING AT THE TRIDENT

IN SAUSALITO,

OUT THE RUSSIAN RIVER

TO RIO NIDO.

FEELIN FREE,

AND ON WE GO,

UP THE COAST

TO MENDOCINO.

 

CALIFORNIA CRUISIN’.

CALIFORNIA CRUISIN’.

 

CIVILIZATION

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

 

WADING IN THE RIVER,

MOONLIGHT THROUGH THE TREES.

THE BIRDS ARE ALL ASLEEP,

SMELL THE ORCHIDS ON THE BREEZE.

FLOATING IN THE STREAM, 

A SHINY METAL CAN.

I HAVE NEVER SEEN A THING SO STRANGE,

I CATCH IT IN MY HAND.

IT'S THE FIRST SIGN OF...

 

CIVILIZATION.

MODERNIZATION.

COMPLETE DECIMATION

OF THE AMAZON BASIN.

CIVILIZATION.

CIVILIZATION.

 

RESTING IN THE BRUSH,

SUNLIGHT ON THE GRASS.

WATCHING ALL THE CLOUDS,

AS THEY FLOAT ON PAST.

SUDDENLY APPEAR

THE MIGHTY JAWS OF DEATH.

THE GRINDING OF THE GEARS,

SMELL THE OILY BREATH OF…

 

CIVILIZATION.

DEFORESTATION.

LAND RECLAMATION.

ANNIHILATION.

CIVILIZATION.

CIVILIZATION.

 

ON A MONKEY HUNT,

AS HE SCRAMBLES OVERHEAD.

FARTHER FROM THE TRIBE,

I AM BEING LEAD.

COME UPON A CLEARING,

WONDER FILLS MY EYES.

THERE'S A MILLION PEOPLE,

HEAR THE ANGUISHED CRIES OF…

 

CIVILIZATION.

OVERPOPULATION.

CRIME AND STARVATION.

THE CRUSH OF CREATION.

CIVILIZATION.

CIVILIZATION.

 

COALTOWN BABIES

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/ bmi

 

COALTOWN BABIES

STRUTTIN’ THEIR STUFF.

ACTING SO COOL,

LOOKIN’ SO TOUGH.

COALTOWN BABIES

HANGIN’ AROUND

THE DARK AND DIRTY

POOR PART OF TOWN.

 

SHE STANDS IN FRONT

OF THE LAUNDROMAT,

NEXT TO THE YORK HOTEL.

NEAR THE ALLEY

WITH THE YOWLING CATS.

DOWN BY THE RIVER

WITH THE GARBAGE SMELL.

AND AS THE CARS CRUISE BY.

SHE SEARCHES EVERY FACE 

THAT SHE MEETS.

WITH THAT GLAZED LOOK 

IN HER EYE,

SHE TRIES TO KEEP FROM 

PASSING OUT IN THE STREET.

 

HE SITS IN A

BIG BLACK CADILLAC.

HIS SPEAKERS PUMPIN’ OUT

A BOOMING BEAT.

HIS SILKY SLEEVES

HIDE THE TINY TRACKS.

HE'S PLAYIN’ IT COOL,

BUT HE'S PACKING HEAT.

AND AS THAT DEAL GOES DOWN,

HE COUNTS THE SCRATCH 

OUT ON THE SEAT.

HE RUNS THE TRAFFIC 

IN THIS TOWN,

WHILE HIS STRING

WORKS THE STREET.

 

THE HOMELESS HUDDLE

IN THE RAIN,

THEIR WHOLE WORLD

IN A SHOPPING CART.

BUT THERE'S NO SHELTER

FROM THE PAIN,

THERE'S NOWHERE TO 

HIDE A BROKEN HEART.

SHE STANDS IN THE 

DARKENED DOORWAY,

TRYIN’ TO KEEP 

FROM GETTING WET.

HER RAVAGED FACE TELLS 

AN ANCIENT STORY.

IN THE SMOKY HALO

OF HER CIGARETTE.

 

COALTOWN BABIES

STRUTTIN’ THEIR STUFF.

ACTING SO COOL,

LOOKIN’ SO TOUGH.

COALTOWN BABIES

HANGIN’ AROUND

THE DARK AND DIRTY

POOR PART OF TOWN.

 

COCONINO

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/ bmi

 

IT’S A LONG WAY

TO HOLLYWOOD.

THIS CHANGE OF PACE

WOULD DO SOME

MOVIE STARS GOOD.

EVERYBODY’S SLEEPING

IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY.

NOTHING EVER HAPPENS,

AND NO ONE CARES ANYWAY.

 

IT’S A LONG WAY

TO PARIS, FRANCE.

NO ONE HERE

WANTS TO DANCE.

THE ROAD’S ARE

ROUGH AND DUSTY,

THE CARS ARE

RUSTED OUT.

THE JOBS ALL LEAD

TO NOWHERE.

THERE'S NO WAY

OF GETTING OUT.

 

BUT HERE

IN COCONINO,

WE’VE GOT

BUZZIN’ FLIES.

WE’VE GOT

SLEEPIN’ DOGS,

AND THE WEATHER’S

HOT AND DRY.

HERE IN COCONINO,

I’M SITTIN’

LIKE A BUMP ON A LOG,

JUST THINKIN’ OF YOU.

 

IT’S A LONG WAY

TO MIAMI BEACH.

THE GOOD LIFE

IS OUT OF REACH.

THE STOP SIGNS ARE

SHOT FULL OF HOLES.

THE SHACKS

ARE FALLIN’ DOWN.

THERE AIN’T

NO PEST CONTROL.

COYOTES PROWL

ON THE EDGE OF TOWN.

 

IT’S A LONG WAY

TO NEW YORK CITY.

IT’S A THOUSAND MILES

TO ANYWHERE PRETTY.

IT’S A LONELY OLD TOWN,

WHEN THAT SUN

IS GOIN’ DOWN.

AND THE GIRL

THAT DRIVES

YOU CRAZY,

IS NOWHERE

TO BE FOUND.

 

COUNTY LINE

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/ bmi

 

IN THE MORNING,

WHEN THE TIME HAS COME,

I’LL LOOK FOR THE SIGN.

IN THE MORNING,

I’LL TAKE DOWN MY GUN,

AND CROSS THAT COUNTY LINE.

I’LL FOLLOW THE WINDING ROAD,

‘TIL I COME TO THE OLD OAK TREE.

IN THE MORNING,

WHEN THE TIME HAS COME,

I WILL BE FREE.

 

IN THE MORNING,

WHEN THE DAY IS HOT,

I WILL FIND THE PLACE.

IN THE MORNING,

YOU WILL HEAR A SHOT,

AND YOU WILL SEE MY FACE.

WE’LL CROSS THE RAGING RIVER,

‘TIL WE REACH THE OTHER SIDE.

IN THE MORNING,

WHEN THE DAY IS HOT,

YOU WILL BE MY BRIDE.

 

THAT WOMAN WENT TO WAYCROSS.

SHE CAUGHT THAT MIDNIGHT TRAIN.

LEFT ME STANDING AT THE STATION,

CRYIN’ IN THE POURING RAIN.

 

THAT WOMAN WENT TO WAYCROSS.

SHE HAD TO LEAVE THIS TOWN.

CAN’T YOU HEAR THAT WHISTLE BLOWIN’,

MAKIN’ THAT MOURNFUL SOUND.

 

THAT WOMAN WENT TO WAYCROSS,

AND SHE AIN’T NEVER COMIN’ BACK.

NOW I’M STANDING IN THE RAIN,

LOOKIN’ DOWN THE TRACKS.

 

COYOTE FROM CENTRAL PARK

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

 

I CAME ACROSS THE G.W.B.

LAST NIGHT ABOUT THE HOUR OF THREE,

JUST ANOTHER WEARY IMMIGRANT,

YEARNING TO BE FREE.

 

NOSED AROUND CHINATOWN,

SEARCHING FOR SOME SCRAPS.

FOUND A PARK IN THE BOWERY,

AND STOPPED THERE FOR A NAP.

 

STANDING IN TIMES SQUARE,

STARING AT THE NEON LIGHTS.

HAD TO DODGE A GYPSY CAB,

RACING THROUGH THE NIGHT.

 

FOLLOWED A LADY UP

PARK AVENUE,

IN HER CHINCHILLA COAT,

WITH LEOPARD PANTS,

AND A ZEBRA SCARF AROUND HER THROAT.

 

I’M THE COYOTE FROM CENTRAL PARK,

AND I’M ONLY PASSING THROUGH.

WHILE GERSHWIN PLAYS THE OPENING THEME

FROM RHAPSODY IN BLUE.

 

OUT IN FRONT OF THE PLAZA,

HANSOM CABS WAITING FOR A FARE.

THE PERFUME OF WEALTH AND POWER,

LINGERING IN THE AIR.

 

MY APPROACHING SCENT

SPOOKS THE TIRED HORSES.

FOR, EVEN IN HIGH SOCIETY,

THERE ARE GREATER FORCES.

 

BACK BEHIND THE DAKOTA,

RUMMAGING THROUGH THE GARBAGE CANS.

JOHN WAS THE WALRUS,

BUT TONIGHT, I AM THE EGGMAN.

GOO GOOG A CHOO! AHOOOOO!

 

I’M THE COYOTE FROM CENTRAL PARK,

AND I’M ONLY PASSING THROUGH.

WHILE GERSHWIN PLAYS THE OPENING THEME

FROM RHAPSODY IN BLUE.

 

CRESCENT CITY

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/ bmi

 

DRIVIN' DOWN A DUSTY ROAD.

HAULIN' A HEAVY LOAD.

DRIVIN' DOWN A DUSTY ROAD.

GOIN' BACK TO EMMALENE,

WAY DOWN IN NEW ORLEANS.

IN THE CRESCENT CITY.

 

SLEEPIN' IN A BIG BRASS BED,

WITH THAT MOJO MAMA IN MY HEAD.

SLEEPIN' IN A BIG BRASS BED.

DREAMIN' OF EMMALENE,

MY LITTLE CREOLE QUEEN.

IN THE CRESCENT CITY.

 

GOIN' TO THE HOODOO BALL.

DOWN AT THE CONGO HALL.

GOIN' TO THE HOODOO BALL.

GONNA DANCE WITH EMMALENE,

AND DO THE TWO STEP.

IN THE CRESCENT CITY.

 

GONNA WED MY SWEET QUADROON.

UNDER A HARVEST MOON.

GONNA WED MY SWEET QUADROON.

AND LIVE WITH EMMALENE,

IN THE VIEUX CARRE.

IN THE CRESCENT CITY.

 

GONNA PLAY SOME BOURE HANDS.

MIGHT WIN SOME MONEY,

MIGHT WIN SOME LAND.

GONNA PLAY SOME BOURE HANDS.

TAKE IT HOME TO EMMALENE,

STUFF IT UNDERNEATH THE MATTRESS.

IN THE CRESCENT CITY.

 

DIXIE DAWN

©2015 donald mccrea

mechanical arts/bmi

 

GOT A 'BAMA MAMA

AND A YANKEE PA

DIGGIN' IN THE DIRT

DOWN IN ARKANSAS

 

THEY RAISED ME RIGHT

BUT I TURNED OUT WRONG

SOLD MY SOUL TO THE DEVIL

FOR A COUNTRY SONG

 

OUT ON THE CORNER

'NEATH A NEON SIGN

SANG FOR A NICKEL

PLAYED FOR A DIME

 

PICKED THOSE STRINGS

'TIL MY FINGERS BLED

WORKED EVERY SONG

THAT WAS IN MY HEAD

 

DOWN ON THE LEVEE

THE RIVER ROLLS ON

HOWLIN' AT THE MOON

IN THE DIXIE DAWN

 

STRAPPED THE BASS

TO THE ROOF

OF THE CADILLAC

GOT THE BOYS IN THE BAND

AND THE AMPS IN BACK

 

AT MUSCLE SHOALS

WE CUT SOME TRACKS

AND LAID IT DOWN

AT SUN AND STAX

 

WITH POMADE POMPS

AND SHARKSKIN SUITS

BLACK STRING TIES

AND ALLIGATOR BOOTS

 

WE ROCKED THE RYMAN

AND THE HONKY TONKS TOO

WITH THE BOURBON STREET BOOGIE

AND THE BEALE STREET BLUES

 

PUT THE PEDAL 

TO THE METAL

AND GOT REAL GONE

DROVE THROUGH THE DELTA

IN THE DIXIE DAWN

 

DOWN ON THE LEVEE

THE RIVER ROLLS ON

HOWLIN' AT THE MOON

IN THE DIXIE DAWN

 

 JUMP IN

LET'S TAKE A RIDE

DOWN TO THE RIVER

TO DROWN OUR SORROWS

WHILE THE DIXIE DAWN

BRINGS A NEW TOMORROW

 

DROP OF RAIN

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

 

YOU'RE A DROP OF RAIN

FALLING FROM THE SKY

FORGET ABOUT YOUR PAIN

YOU WILL NEVER DIE

FLOATING IN A CLOUD

YOU'RE A DROP OF RAIN

 

YOU'RE A FROZEN LAKE

SLEEPING IN THE SNOW

WAITING IN THE WINTER

FOR THE SPRINGTIME THAW

UNTIL THE ICE CAN BREAK

YOU'RE A FROZEN LAKE

 

YOU'RE A MOUNTAIN STREAM

ON A SUMMER DAY

TUMBLING TO THE SEA

YOU WILL FIND YOUR WAY

FLOATING THROUGH THIS DREAM

YOU'RE A MOUNTAIN STREAM

 

YOU'RE THE OCEAN BLUE

ON AN AUTUMN DAY

WHEN THE SUN BREAKS THROUGH

YOU EVAPORATE

RISING THROUGH THE AIR

THEN YOU FLY AWAY

 

YOU'RE A DROP OF RAIN

FALLING FROM THE SKY

FORGET ABOUT YOUR PAIN

YOU WILL NEVER DIE

FLOATING IN A CLOUD

YOU'RE A DROP OF RAIN

 

DRYGULCH

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

 

GOIN' DOWN TO DRYGULCH,

ON THE TRAIL TO TURKEY FLAT.

GOIN' DOWN TO DRYGULCH,

AND I'M NOT COMIN' BACK.

 

GONNA FIND ANGEL GOMEZ,

AND DISCUSS SOME WATER RIGHTS.

AND, I'VE GOT THIS SINKIN' FEELIN',

THERE'S GONNA BE A FIGHT.

 

GOT THE DEED TO CASA ROBLES,

RIGHT HERE IN MY HAND.

BUT, I BROUGHT MY .30-30,

IN CASE MAKE A STAND.

 

I HEARD FROM JOAQUIN JOHNSON,

THERE WAS POACHING IN THE DRAW.

THEY TOOK A COUPLE YEARLINGS,

AND RODE OFF FOR TOPAWA.

 

GOIN' DOWN TO DRYGULCH,

ON THE TRAIL TO TURKEY FLAT.

GOIN' DOWN TO DRYGULCH,

AND I'M NOT COMIN' BACK.

 

EL BRAINO NO BUENO

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/ bmi

 

SOUTH OF THE BORDER IN TIJUANA.

TRYING TO IMPORT A KEY OF MARIJUANA.

I GOT BUSTED BY THE FEDERALES.

THEY TOOK MY MONEY, MY MARIJUANA,

AND LOCKED ME IN THE DUNGEON.

 

IN A HOT COURTROOM IN MEXICALI

MY LAWYER TOOK A SIESTA,

AS THEY THREW THE BOOK AT ME.

THE SOUND OF THEIR LAUGHTER

ECHOED DOWN THE HALLWAY.

SENTENCED TO THE PENATENTURIA

FOR LIFE PLUS MANANA.

 

EL BRAINO NO BUENO.

DONDE ESTA EL BANO, POR FAVOR?

EL BRAINO NO BUENO.

VAYA CON DIABLO, SENOR.

 

AFTER YEARS OF HARD LABOR,

WITH NO MARGARITAS.

I ESCAPED THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS

WITH THE HELP OF JUANITA.

IN A SHACK ON THE PLAYA

IN TODOS SANTOS.

NOW WE SPEND OUR DAYS

LOST IN A HAZE, AND WE SAY…

 

EMILY

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

EMILY STAYS IN HER ROOM.

EMILY STAYS IN HER ROOM.

 

SHE STANDS BY THE WINDOW,

AND WATCHES THE WORLD

PASSING BY.

 

SHE SITS AT HER DESK,

AND PONDERS EACH WORD

THAT SHE WRITES.

 

SHE LIES ON HER BED,

AND STUDIES THE PATTERNS

ON THE WALL.

 

FUNK SHUI

©2015 donald mccrea

mechanical arts/bmi

 

WE KNOW WHERE TO PUT THE BEAT,

TO MOVE YOUR BODY AND MOVE YOUR FEET.

AND, WE KNOW WHERE TO PUT THE SOUND,

WHEN THE ELEVATOR GOES UP AND DOWN.

 

WE KNOW WHERE TO PUT THE HOOK,

TO MATCH YOUR SOFA'S BRAND NEW LOOK.

AND, WE KNOW WHERE TO PUT THE QI,

TO GIVE YOUR LIFE GOOD ENERGY.

 

FUNK SHUI.

FUNK SHUI.

 

WE KNOW WHERE TO PUT THE SWING,

SO YOU CAN DANCE AND YOU CAN SING.

AND, WE KNOW WHERE TO PUT THE CHORDS,

TO BRING GOOD FORTUNE AND BIG REWARDS.

 

HEY JOLENE!

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

 

HEY JOLENE,

WHERE YOU GOIN’

WITH THAT CELLPHONE

IN YOUR HAND?

HEY JOLENE,

WHERE YOU GOIN’ 

WITH THAT CELLPHONE

IN YOUR HAND?

I JUST SHOT MY NEW MOVIE,

AND THE PAPARAZZI

CAUGHT ME FOOLIN’ AROUND

WITH MY LEADING MAN.

 

HEY JOLENE,

WHERE YOU GOIN’

WITH THAT LAPTOP

IN YOUR HAND?

HEY JOLENE,

WHERE YOU GOIN’

WITH THAT LAPTOP

IN YOUR HAND?

I’M GONNA EMAIL MY AGENT,

AND HAVE HIM SELL

MY CAMEL RANCH

IN AFGHANISTAN.

 

HEY JOLENE,

WHERE YOU GOIN’

WITH THAT CREDIT CARD

IN YOUR HAND?

HEY JOLENE,

WHERE YOU GOIN’

WITH THAT CREDIT CARD

IN YOUR HAND?

I’M GOIN’ TO THE 

HERMES BOUTIQUE

TO BUY THE SAME SCARF

THAT JIMI WORE

ON ELECTRIC LADYLAND.

 

HEY JOLENE,

WHATCHA GONNA DO?

HEY JOLENE,

TELL ME, WHATCHA GONNA DO?

I’M GOIN’ WHERE 

A WOMAN CAN BE FREE.

I’M GONNA JET ON BACK

TO MALIBU.

 

IRON

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

 

THE OGEECHEE RIVER

FLOWS THROUGH TUSCULUM

WEST OF SAVANNAH

WATCH THAT RIVER RUN

FARTHER SOUTH

IT JOINS THE CANOOCHEE

AND WANDERS OUT

TO THE WAITING SEA

 

WHILE THE COTTON GROWS

ON THIS SUMMER DAY

THE RIVER ERODES

THAT RED GEORGIA CLAY

 

MADE OF IRON

IRON

MADE OF IRON

 

STEEL MILL STACKS

DOWN IN BIRMINGHAM

BELCH BLACK SMOKE

THAT SMOTHERS ALL THE LAND

RED HOT SLAG

MAKES COLD HARD STEEL

FOR BRIDGES

AND BUILDINGS

AND AUTOMOBILES

 

AND WHILE THAT TRAFFIC

ROLLS ALONG

I'M PLAYIN' 

THIS SIMPLE SONG

ON STRINGS

 

MADE OF IRON

STRINGS

MADE OF IRON

 

CHLOROPHYLL FLOWS

THROUGH THE TREES 

AND PLANTS

WHILE BIRDS AND BEES

DO THAT PRIMAL DANCE

RED BLOOD FLOWS

THROUGH OUR VEINS

WHILE WE

LEARN TO LOVE

AND DEAL

WITH PLEASURE

AND PAIN

 

THE THING THAT 

SEPARATES US

FROM THE TREES

AND FLOWERS

IS THE ELEMENT

THAT CREATES

THIS STRENGTH

AND POWER

 

IRON

WE'RE MADE 

OF IRON

 

IT'S A JOKE

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

 

GOD HAS ORANGE HAIR,

AND A BIG RED RUBBER NOSE.

HE DOES CARTWHEELS IN THE AIR,

AS HE SQUIRTS YOU WITH A HOSE.

AND, YOU ARE JUST A PROP

THAT HE USES IN HIS SHOWS.

IF YOU MISS THE PUNCHLINE,

BACK AROUND THE RING YOU GO.

 

IT'S A JOKE. IT'S A JOKE.

IT'S ALL HELD UP BY MIRRORS,

AS THE TENT FILLS UP WITH SMOKE.

IT'S A JOKE.

 

GOD WEARS BIG SLAP SHOES,

AND HONKS A LITTLE HORN.

HE STANDS OVER YOU,

AND LAUGHS WHEN YOU ARE BORN.

HE SLAPS YOU ON THE BOTTOM,

AND HE SENDS YOU ON YOUR WAY.

AND, HE TRIES TO MAKE A JOKE

OUT OF EVERYTHING YOU SAY.

 

IT'S A JOKE. IT'S A JOKE.

AS YOU STAGGER ON THE TREADMILL,

TRYING TO KEEP FROM GOING BROKE.

IT'S A JOKE.

 

THE TIGER'S PACING IN HIS CAGE.

THE CLOWN IS BURNING UP WITH RAGE.

THE BEARDED LADY'S HOWLING AT THE MOON.

THE BARKER BEATS A BIG BASS DRUM.

THE ELEPHANT SUCKS UP THE CRUMBS.

THE BRASS BAND'S BLARING OUT A BROKEN TUNE.

 

YOU WALK THE HIGH WIRE.

JUMP THROUGH A RING OF FIRE.

YOU'VE GOT YOUR HEAD

IN THE LION'S MOUTH.

AS THEY SHOOT YOU FROM THE CANNON,

AND YOU EMERGE FROM YOUR MOTHER,

YOU THINK, "IS THIS WHAT THIS LIFE IS ALL ABOUT?"

 

IT'S A JOKE. IT'S A JOKE.

AS YOU WITHER IN YOUR WHEELCHAIR

AFTER SUFFERING A STROKE.

IT'S A JOKE.

 

IT'S A JOKE. IT'S A JOKE.

IT'S ALL HELD UP BY MIRRORS,

AS THE TENT GOES UP IN SMOKE.

WHY AREN'T YOU LAUGHING?

IT'S A JOKE.

 

JUNKYARD DOG

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

 

I’M DRUNK AS A SKUNK,

LONELY AS A TRAIN.

I’M LIKE A HERD OF BUFFALO

LOST OUT ON THE PLAINS

PALE AS A PENSIONER,

WHITE AS A GHOST.

THIRSTY AS A PIRATE

ON THE BARBARY COAST.

SLIMY AS A POLITICIAN,

SLIPPERY AS A SNAKE.

BUCKING LIKE A BRONCO

YOU CAN NEVER BREAK.

FEASTING LIKE A FRENCHMAN

ON FOIE GRAS AND FROGS.

I’M CHAINED TO THIS FENCE,

AND SNARLING LIKE A JUNKYARD DOG.

 

I’M RATTLED AS A BRIDEGROOM

FUMBLING FOR THE RING.

NAKED AS A JAYBIRD,

WHO’S FORGOTTEN HOW TO SING.

HOT AS A PISTOL, SHARP AS A KNIFE.

HENPECKED AS A HUSBAND,

WITH A HARPY FOR A WIFE.

HARANGUING LIKE A HUCKSTER

IN A CIRCUS FULL OF FLEAS.

TESTY AS A TEETOTALER

TASTING TEPID TEA.

I NO LONGER CUT A RUG

CUZ I’M FALLING OFF THIS LOG.

I’M PUNCHDRUNK AS A PUG,

AND RABID AS A JUNKYARD DOG.

 

I’M WOOZY AS A WINO

WAKING FROM THE DEAD.

A PARADE OF PINK PACHYDERMS

POUNDING IN MY HEAD.

I’M SQUIRMING IN THE LINEUP

DOWN AT THE COUNTY JAIL.

TWISTING IN THE WIND,

‘CUZ I CANNOT GO THE BAIL.

I’M CHATTERING LIKE A MONKEY,

HOLDING OUT HIS HAT.

JITTERY AS A JUNKIE.

BLIND AS A BAT.

HOLLERING LIKE A HAYSEED

FOR HIS HAPPY HERD OF HOGS.

I’M HOWLING AT THE MOON,

AND LOVESICK AS A JUNKYARD DOG.

 

LIVE AND NEVER LEARN

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

 

SOME PEOPLE LIVE AND NEVER LEARN.

SOME BRIDGES YOU CAN NEVER BURN.

SOME HEARTS WERE MEANT TO BE BROKEN.

SOME UNKIND WORDS WERE MEANT TO BE SPOKEN.

SOME PEOPLE LIVE AND NEVER LEARN.

 

I'VE BEEN IN LOVE BEFORE,

AND I SHOULD KNOW THE SCORE.

I SHOULD KNOW ALL THAT LOVE CAN DO.

I'VE GOT THE BATTLE SCARS

FROM THE ROMANTIC WARS.

BUT, I FORGOT THAT ALL

WHEN I MET YOU.

 

SOME PEOPLE LIVE AND NEVER LEARN.

SOME LONG LOST FEELINGS CAN RETURN.

YOUR LOVE WAS MEANT TO BE TASTED,

BUT, I DIDN'T KNOW THAT

THESE FEELINGS WOULD BE WASTED.

SOME PEOPLE LIVE AND NEVER LEARN.

 

NOW, AFTER ALL THESE YEARS,

THE HEARTACHES AND THE TEARS,

SOME LOSERS STILL FEEL THEY CAN WIN.

FOR I KNOW ALL TOO WELL,

THAT I WOULD MARCH THROUGH HELL,

FOR A CHANCE TO FIND

THAT SWEET HEAVEN ONCE AGAIN.

 

SOME PEOPLE LIVE AND NEVER LEARN.

SOME BRIDGES YOU CAN NEVER BURN.

SOME PEOPLE LIVE AND NEVER LEARN.

SOME PEOPLE LIVE AND NEVER LEARN.

 

LOTUS

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

 

LOVE IS JUST A LOTUS BLOSSOM,

SIGNIFYING GRACE.

RESTING IN A BUDDHA'S HAND,

A SMILE UPON HIS FACE.

 

SITTING IN A WOODEN SAMPAN,

DRESSED IN CAMOUFLAGE.

A LOTUS BLOSSOM IN MY HAND,

IS THIS A MIRAGE?

 

OPEN UP YOUR FLOWER

FOR ME.

WRAP YOURSELF AROUND ME

FOR ETERNITY.

 

LOVE IS JUST A LOTUS BLOSSOM,

FLOATING IN A STREAM.

LOVE CAN CARRY YOU AWAY,

IN A MAGIC DREAM.

 

FLOATING IN THE MEKONG DELTA,

CLOUDS REFLECTED IN MY EMPTY EYES.

WILL WE EVER LEARN THIS LESSON,

DOES LOVE HAVE TO DIE?

 

OPEN UP YOUR FLOWER

FOR ME.

WRAP YOURSELF AROUND ME

FOR ETERNITY.

 

LOVE IS JUST A LOTUS BLOSSOM,

SIGNIFYING GRACE.

RESTING IN A BUDDHA'S HAND,

A SMILE UPON HIS FACE.

 

MAGIC

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

 

IN A TANK OF WATER,

SUSPENDED UPSIDE DOWN.

SHACKLED BY THESE CHAINS,

TRYING NOT TO DROWN.

I'M A MASTER OF ILLUSION,

AND A MASTER OF DISGUISE.

SO, WHILE I'M UNDERWATER,

YOU CAN'T SEE ME CRY.

CAN'T SEE ME CRY.

 

FLOATING IN THE SPOTLIGHT,

IN A CLOUD OF DRY ICE.

I'M LEVITATING ABOVE THE TABLE,

IN A TUXEDO SO NEAT AND SO NICE.

BUT, AS THE CURTAIN COMES DOWN,

I FALL BACK TO THE GROUND.

AND, BACKSTAGE IN MY BATHROBE,

I HANG MY HEAD AND PACE AROUND,

JUST PACE AROUND.

 

I CAN SAW A MARRIAGE IN HALF.

I CAN MAKE A WIFE DISAPPEAR.

BECAUSE THE MAGIC'S ALL GONE,

AND LOVE HAS DISAPPEARED IN THIN AIR.

NO MORE ACES UP MY SLEEVE,

THAT WAS JUST A NASTY OLD HABIT.

NOW, WHEN I REACH INTO MY TOP HAT,

I'VE RUN OUT OF RABBITS,

RUN OUT OF RABBITS.

 

THE SUN COMES UP EVERY MORNING,

AND, THE MOON SHINES EVERY NIGHT.

I'VE STILL GOT MY HEALTH,

AND I CAN GET AROUND ALL RIGHT.

FLOWERS BLOOMING IN THE YARD,

AND BIRDS ARE SINGING EVERYWHERE.

I BUILT A FENCE TO KEEP OUT THE RABBITS,

AND THERE'S MAGIC IN THE AIR.

MAGIC IN THE AIR.

THERE'S MAGIC, 

MAGIC IN THE AIR.

 

MALIBU

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts / bmi

 

THE MOON DANCES ON THE SURFACE

OF THE PACIFIC BLUE.

STARS ARE SHINING BRIGHTLY

OUT IN MALIBU.

 

ROARING UP THE PCH

IN A DIABLO LAMBORGHINI,

WITH AN ETHEREAL AMAZON

IN A STRING BIKINI.

SPEAKERS BLASTING A MEGAGROOVE

MASHUP OF JAMES BROWN.

“I FEEL GOOD, LIKE I KNEW I WOULD”,

AS THAT SUMMER SUN’S GOING DOWN.

 

BURSTING INTO BAMBU

WHERE THE SCENE IS RAGING,

LIKE SOME SET OF SPIELBERG’S

WITH THE LIGHTING AND THE STAGING.

THE ENTIRE ROOM IS BUZZING

WITH THE SEDUCTIVE SOUND

OF POWER TALK, AND POWER PLAYS,

AND PRODUCTION DEALS GOIN’ DOWN.

 

OUT IN MALIBU.

OUT IN MALIBU.

 

STANDING ON THE SAND

IS A GOLDEN MAN,

WAITING BY THE OCEAN

WITH A SURFBOARD IN HIS HAND.

OUT TO CATCH A PERFECT SET

ON A PRISTINE SEA.

AND RIDE THE BUCKING BRONCO POWER

OF AN OCEAN WILD AND FREE.

 

AS A GOLDEN WOMAN

SITS LOTUS ON THE SHORE.

WITH DANCING DREAMS AND DEEP DESIRES

IN HER HEART ONCE MORE.

SOAKING UP THE SUMMER SUN

IN SWEET SERENITY.

WHILE FLOATING IN A TIMELESS TRANCE

OF TRUE TRANQUILITY.

 

OUT IN MALIBU.

OUT IN MALIBU.

 

MISSISSIPPI

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

 

I FEEL SO BAD,

I COULD FILL THE MISSISSIPPI

FULL OF TEARS.

I FEEL SO BAD,

I COULD FILL THE MISSISSIPPI

FULL OF TEARS.

FOLKS DOWN IN ST. JAMES PARISH

WOULD SAY THEY AIN’T SEEN

NOTHIN’ LIKE IT IN YEARS.

 

SINCE THAT GIRL’S BEEN GONE,

I’VE BEEN OVERFLOWING MY BANKS.

SINCE THAT GIRL’S BEEN GONE,

I’VE BEEN OVERFLOWING MY BANKS.

IF SHE EVER COMES BACK HOME,

EVERYONE IN MEMPHIS

WOULD FALL DOWN ON THEIR KNEES

AND GIVE THANKS.

 

I’VE BEEN CRYIN’ SO LONG,

I FLOODED THE TOWN OF DELACROIX.

I’VE BEEN CRYIN’ SO LONG,

I FLOODED THE TOWN OF DELACROIX.

IF SHE’D JUST BE MY WOMAN,

ALL THOSE WEARY PEOPLE,

WOULD JUMP FOR JOY.

 

RAIN’S COMIN’ DOWN,

AND BEATS A RHYTHM ON MY ROOF.

THAT OLD RAIN’S COMIN’ DOWN,

AND BEATS A RHYTHM ON MY ROOF.

MY HEART IS DROWNIN’

IN A RAGING RIVER THAT’S 100 PROOF.

 

MOJAVE

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/ bmi

 

THE DRUNKEN MOON

STAGGERS ACROSS THE SKY,

AND CRASHES TO THE GROUND.

AFTER A NIGHT

OF DRINKING MESCAL

IN A MESTIZO BORDER TOWN.

AND, WHILE THE WHIRLING PLANETS

BEAR WITNESS TO THIS SCENE,

I LIE SLUMBERING ON THE SAND,

AND DREAM THE STRANGEST DREAM.

 

A MIRAGE OF CORONADO

APPEARS IN THE SHIMMERING HEAT,

WITH HIS BAND OF CONQUISTADORS

EXPLORING A GOLDEN STREET.

TO THE SEVEN CITIES OF CIBOLA,

IN SEARCH OF ANCIENT TREASURE,

AND MORE WEALTH 

THAN THE ROYAL COURT OF SPAIN 

COULD EVER MEASURE.

 

AND, WHILE I LIE SLEEPING,

IN THIS VALLEY OF JOSHUA TREES,

THE STARS SHINE DOWN

LIKE CASTILIAN SILVER,

ON THE MOJAVE.

ON THE MOJAVE.

 

NAKED

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

 

YOU CAN WEAR A SUIT

AND YOU CAN WEAR A TIE,

BUT YOU'RE NAKED WHEN YOU'RE BORN,

AND YOU'RE NAKED WHEN YOU DIE.

IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOU WEAR,

IT'S THE LOOK IN YOUR EYE

THAT LEAVES YOU NAKED.

YOU CAN DRESS UP LIKE A WOMAN,

YOU CAN DRESS UP LIKE A MAN,

BUT, THERE'S REALLY NO WAY 

YOU CAN FAKE IT.

PEOPLE KNOW WHAT YOU ARE

BY THE WAY THAT YOU STAND,

CUZ YOU'RE NAKED.

 

YOU CAN WEAR A TUTU,

OR A TEN GALLON HAT.

DRESS IN A DIRTY BATHROBE,

OR A SHINY SILK CRAVAT.

IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOU WEAR,

PEOPLE KNOW WHERE YOU'RE AT,

CUZ YOU'RE NAKED.

EVERYTHING YOU'RE THINKIN',

EVERYTHING YOU FEEL,

WHEN YOU'RE TALKIN' TO A LOVER, 

OR TRYIN' TO MAKE A DEAL.

THEY ALWAYS KNOW IF YOU'RE A PHONY,

OR IF YOU ARE FOR REAL,

CUZ YOU'RE NAKED.

 

NAKED.

WE'RE ALL NAKED.

NAKED.

WE'RE ALL NAKED.

 

YOU CAN WEAR A SUIT OF ARMOR,

OR A PAIR OF BOWLING SHOES.

DRESS UP LIKE A FARMER,

OR A MONK FROM KATHMANDU.

BUT PEOPLE KNOW IF YOU'RE IN BLISS,

OR IF YOU'VE GOT THE BLUES,

CUZ YOU'RE NAKED.

WE'RE AS NAKED AS THE CREATURES

LIVIN' IN THE ZOO.

AS NAKED AS THE DANCER 

DOIN' THE HOOCHY KOO

WE'RE AS NAKED AS A JAYBIRD,

AND THERE'S NOTHIN' WE CAN DO,

CUZ WE'RE NAKED.

 

YOUR TEACHERS,

AND YOUR PREACHERS,

THE JUDGE UPON THE BENCH.

THE DOCTORS,

AND THE LAWYERS,

THE MECHANIC

WITH HIS WRENCH.

THE SOLDIERS,

AND THE SAILORS,

THE BUMS

OUT ON THE STREET.

YOUR MOTHER 

AND YOUR FATHER,

AND EVERYONE YOU MEET,

ARE ALL NAKED.

NAKED.

 

ODYSSEY

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

 

IT'S A LONG WAY

ACROSS THE SAND,

WHEN YOU'RE A LOST

AND LONELY MAN.

AND YOU'RE SEARCHING

FOR THE LEGENDARY

LAND OF LOVE.

 

IT'S A LONG WAY

ACROSS THE SEA,

WHEN YOU'RE SAILING

FOR ETERNITY.

AND NAVIGATING BACK

TO THE HEART 

THAT WAITS

SO PATIENTLY.

 

NO MATTER 

WHO YOU ARE,

OR WHERE YOU

MAY BE.

IF YOU'RE 

REACHING FOR A STAR,

YOU ARE A PART

OF THE ODYSSEY.

 

IT'S A LONG WAY

OUT INTO SPACE,

TRAVELING WITH

THE HUMAN RACE.

AND, LONGING

TO SEE

THE ETERNAL FACE

OF LOVE.

 

ONE WORLD

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

 

WE'RE TRIBAL, AND WE'RE GLOBAL.

WE'RE PETTY, AND WE'RE NOBLE.

WE'RE SAVAGE, AND WE'RE SO SOPHISTICATED.

WE'RE STRANGERS, BUT WE'RE RELATED.

WE'RE SISTERS, AND WE'RE BROTHERS.

DON'T YOU THINK IT'S TIME WE LEARNED

TO LOVE ONE ANOTHER?

 

AND, MAKE IT…

ONE WORLD.

ONE WORLD.

MAKE IT

ONE WORLD.

ONE WORLD.

 

WE'RE CHRISTIAN, AND WE'RE COMMIE.

WE'RE HINDU, AND ISLAMI.

WE'RE SHINTO, SUFI, AND SIKH.

WE'RE BLACK, BROWN, AND YELLOW,

WE'RE RED AND PINK

WE'RE EVERY COLOR OF THE RAINBOW,

AND WE'RE SEVEN BILLION STRONG.

AND, THERE'S NO EARTHLY REASON WHY

WE CAN'T GET ALONG.

 

AND, MAKE IT…

ONE WORLD.

ONE WORLD.

MAKE IT

ONE WORLD.

ONE WORLD.

 

TAKE ALL THE POLITICIANS,

AND PUT 'EM TO WORK!

TAKE ALL THE KINGS AND QUEENS,

AND PUT 'EM TO WORK!

TAKE ALL THE PEOPLE,

AND SET THEM FREE!

SET THEM FREE!

SET THEM FREE!

 

COME ON, PEOPLE.

STAND UP.

JOIN HANDS.

SPEAK OUT.

MAKE LOVE,

NOT WAR.

BECAUSE LOVE,

IS WHAT

WE'RE HERE FOR.

MAKE IT

ONE WORLD.

ONE WORLD.

ONE WORLD.

 

QUARTER

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

 

THE HOMESTEAD ACT OF 1862,

GAVE A QUARTER SECTION

TO ANYONE WHO

COULD STICK IT OUT

FOR FIVE FULL YEARS,

AND BRAVE THE HEARTACHES

AND THE TEARS,

ON A QUARTER.

 

LAND AS FLAT

AS A FRYIN' PAN.

SCRAPIN' OUT A LIVING 

WITH YOUR HANDS.

THERE'S NOT A HILL,

OR A TREE

FOR AS FAR 

AS THE EYE CAN SEE,

ON A QUARTER.

 

IT'S A HARDSCRABBLE LIFE

FOR A MAN AND A MULE.

IT'S A TEN MILE WALK

TO A ONE ROOM SCHOOL.

WHEN THE WINTER WINDS

WHIP ACROSS THE PLAINS,

THEY BRING THE DRIVIN' SNOW,

AND THE FREEZIN' RAIN,

ON A QUARTER.

 

ON A QUARTER.

PLANTIN' THE SEEDS.

OUT ON A QUARTER

PULLIN' THE WEEDS.

ON A QUARTER.

 

THE DRY YEARS

WERE THE ACID TEST.

IN THE DIRTY THIRTIES,

FOLKS DRIFTED WEST.

PULLIN' UP STAKES,

AND ROLLIN' DOWN THE ROAD,

TO CALIFORNIA.

 

ON FIFTH STREET

IN DOWNTOWN L.A.,

THERE'S A FLOPHOUSE

WHERE A MAN CAN STAY.

DRINKIN' IN A DIVE,

ON A DEAD END STREET,

AND DROWNIN' 

IN HIS DEFEAT.

 

ON THE NICKEL.

HOLDIN' UP A SIGN.

ON THE NICKEL.

STANDIN' IN A SOUP LINE.

 

AND WISHIN' HE WERE BACK

ON A QUARTER.

TIMES ARE GETTIN' TOUGH.

BROTHER, CAN YOU SPARE A DIME?

 

SILENT IN SEVEN LANGUAGES

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

 

HALFWAY AROUND THE WORLD

IN SOME STRANGE MARKETPLACE.

SWIMMING IN A SEA OF VOICES,

SEARCHING FOR A FRIENDLY FACE.

AND FLYING ALL AROUND ME,

LIKE A FLOCK OF EXOTIC BIRDS,

ARE A THOUSAND DISEMBODIED THOUGHTS,

AND A MILLION DISCONNECTED WORDS.

 

I'M SILENT IN SEVEN LANGUAGES,

WITHOUT A THOUGHT IN MY HEAD.

WHILE A MILLION PEOPLE ARE TALKING,

WITHOUT A THING BEING SAID.

I'M SILENT IN SEVEN LANGUAGES,

AND CONVERSANT IN ONLY THREE,

IN THE LANGUAGE OF LOVE,

IN THE LANGUAGE OF THE SOUL,

AND IN ANYTHING TO DO WITH YOU AND ME.

 

WASHED UP ON SOME UNMAPPED ISLAND,

IN THE MIDDLE OF SOME UNCHARTED SEA.

PADDLING UP THIS JUNGLE RIVER,

INTO THE HEART OF THE MYSTERY.

WITH THESE CHATTERING MONKEYS,

AND ALL THESE SQUAWKING BIRDS,

THIS TROPICAL WORLD IS TALKING,

WITHOUT USING ANY WORDS.

 

SONG OF THE SOUTH

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/ bmi

 

I’M GONNA RIDE THAT BIG OLD MUDDY,

ON THE DELTA QUEEN.

GONNA MAKE M Y FORTUNE

DOWN IN NEW ORLEANS.

MIGHT MEET SOME CAJUN GIRL,

OR SOME SWEET CREOLE.

MAKE LOTS OF BABIES,

AND SATISFY MY SOUL.

 

MIGHT MOVE IN WITH MY BROTHER,

UP IN ABERDEEN.

HELP HIM PICK THAT COTTON,

AND WEED OUT ALL THOSE BEANS.

GO FISHIN’ IN THE CREEK,

ON A SUMMER’S DAY.

REST BENEATH THAT BIG OAK TREE,

AND WHILE THE TIME AWAY.

 

WELL, SHUT MY MOUTH.

SINGIN’ ASONG OF THE SOUTH.

 

TRAVELIN’ DOWN THE NATCHEZ TRACE.

THINKIN’ OF ALL THOSE THINGS

THAT HAVE TAKEN PLACE.

GONNA GO SEE MISS ROSA B..

GOIN’ BACK TO GADSDEN

AND FIND SAM BURNEY.

 

HOUND DOGS ARE HOWLING,

UP IN TENNESSEE.

THEY’VE GOT A POSSUM CORNERED.

THEY’VE GOT HIM UP A TREE.

AND DOWN IN NEW ORLEANS,

SOME POOR SOUL HAS PASSED AWAY.

YOU CAN JOIN THAT SECOND LINE,

YOU CAN HEAR THAT BRASS BAND PLAY.

 

THE MOON SHINES ON THE WATER,

OUTSIDE THIBIDOUX.

ALLIGATORS SLEEPING

IN THE STILL BAYOU.

AND DOWN IN THE DELTA,

ON A DUSTY COUNTRY ROAD,

THE GHOST OF ROBERT JOHNSON RAMBLES,

MOANIN’ SOFT AND LOW.

 

WELL, SHUT MY MOUTH.

SINGIN’ A SONG OF THE SOUTH.

 

SURFIN’ THE SUNSET STRIP

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

 

I WAS A HODAD FROM HUNTINGTON

SURFIN’ IN THE SUMMER SUN.

WHEN ALONG CAME JIMI

IN MY YOUNGER DAYS,

AND I GOT LOST

IN THAT PURPLE HAZE.

LOST MY DEWEY WEBER BOARD,

LOST MY TAN.

LOST MY CHERRIED OUT

WOODY VAN.

 

DUDE, IT’S BEEN

A LONG STRANGE TRIP.

NOW I’M SURFIN’

THE SUNSET STRIP.

RIDIN’ THE ROXIE,

RIDIN’ THE RAINBOW.

RIDIN’ THE WILD

WHISKEY-A-GO-GO.

I’M SURFIN’

THE SUNSET STRIP.

SURFIN’

THE SUNSET STRIP.

 

GET LOST IN THE LIGHTS,

DANCE IN THE NIGHT.

FOLLOW THE VOICES THAT CALL.

YOU CAN BE HIGH,

AND YOU CAN BE LOW,

YOU CAN BE NOWHERE AT ALL.

 

TOO MANY DAYS IN MISERY.

GOT TO FIND MY WAY

BACK TO THE SEA.

 

TELEPHONE LINE

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

 

THERE'S A TELEPHONE LINE,

STRETCHING ACROSS THE PLAINS.

BLACK CROW PERCHED ON THE WIRE,

WAITING FOR THE RAIN.

THERE'S A TELEPHONE LINE,

STRETCHED ACROSS THE PLAINS.

ALL THE WAY TO CALIFORNIA,

TO THE RECEIVER IN YOUR HAND.

 

PHONE POLES REACH TO THE HORIZON,

LIKE A WESTBOUND TRAIN.

PAST THE WATER TOWER THAT SAYS,

"HOME OF THE STATE CHAMPIONS".

THROUGH THE SMALL TOWN SQUARE,

WHERE OLD MEN SIT AND COMPLAIN.

PAST THE LOT OF USED COMBINES,

DOWN AT MASSEY FERGUSON.

NEAR THE ABANDONED FARMHOUSE,

THE MAILBOX WITH NO NAME.

BY THE LOCAL GRAVEYARD,

MOURNERS SINGIN' IN THE RAIN.

 

FOLLOWING THIS TWO LANE ROAD,

THROUGH THESE FIELDS OF GRAIN.

ALONG THE WINDING RIVER,

FLOWING AROUND THE BEND.

NEAR THE SILOS AND ELEVATORS,

CASTING SHADOWS ON THE LAND.

PAST THE FARMER ON HIS TRACTOR,

WHEAT WAVING IN THE WIND.

BY THE ONE ROOM SCHOOLHOUSE,

KIDS AT RECESS PLAYING GAMES.

PAST THE HOMESTYLE CAFE,

THE SIGN SAYS, "THANKS AND COME AGAIN".

 

THERE'S A TELEPHONE LINE,

STRETCHING ACROSS THE PLAINS.

BLACK CROW PERCHED ON THE WIRE,

HUNKERED DOWN IN THE RAIN.

THERE'S A TELEPHONE LINE,

STRETCHING ACROSS THE PLAINS.

GOT THIS BUSY SIGNAL,

ECHOING IN MY BRAIN.

 

 

THE AMERICAN DREAM

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

 

SAILING OUT ON WOODEN WAVES,

IN UNCHARTED SEAS.

GAZING AT ENCAUSTIC GLAZE

ON THIS PAINTED SCENERY.

BEING DRIVEN EVER WESTWARD,

BY THIS WIND MACHINE.

SEARCHING FOR A BRAVE NEW WORLD,

AND A BRAND NEW DREAM.

UNDERNEATH A PAPER MOON,

AND FLICKERING NEON STARS,

FLOATING THROUGH THIS DEEP LAGOON,

TOWARD SOME DISTANT SHORE.

 

EXPOSING ALL OUR HOPES AND FEARS,

UP ON THE SILVER SCREEN.

I AM CRYING TEN FOOT TEARS,

I'M THE LEADING MAN

IN THE AMERICAN DREAM.

 

WEARING A TON OF MAKEUP,

AND A COSTUME PINNED IN BACK.

PORTRAYING, FOR THE TWENTIETH TAKE,

A MAN TRYING TO WIN YOU BACK.

I LOOK INTO YOUR EYES,

AND WHISPER SOFT AND LOW,

WORDS MEANT FOR YOUR EARS,

AND THE FOLKS IN THE BACK ROW.

I TAKE YOU IN MY WAITING ARMS,

AND HOLD YOU CLOSE TO ME.

AND, IN THIS INTIMATE MOMENT,

SOMEONE COUGHS IN THE BALCONY.

 

SHOULDERING A FAKE RIFLE,

AND MARCHING OFF TO WAR.

EXTRAS WAVE AT THE STATION,

AND FANS WAIT BY THE STAGE DOOR.

AS THE BOMBS ARE FALLING,

AND EXPLOSIONS FILL THE AIR,

WE ARE DEFENDING DEMOCRACY,

AND FREEDOM EVERYWHERE.

THE PRODUCER ACCEPTS THE OSCAR,

AND THANKS HIS SUPPORTING TEAM.

WE ARE THE CONTRACT PLAYERS,

IN THE AMERICAN DREAM.

 

IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT,

AWAKENING WITH A SCREAM,

WE FALL OUT OF THE NIGHTMARE,

INTO THE AMERICAN DREAM.

 

EXPOSING ALL OUR HOPES AND FEARS,

UP ON THE SILVER SCREEN,

I AM CRYING TEN FOOT TEARS,

I'M THE LEADING MAN

IN THE AMERICAN DREAM.

 

THE CALL OF THE WILD

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/ bmi

 

RAISED IN A SLEEPY OLD SOUTHERN TOWN.

NOTHIN’ BUT COTTON FIELDS ALL AROUND.

EVERY TIME THEY’D RING THAT SCHOOLHOUSE BELL,

I’D WANNA RUN THE OTHER WAY,

AND RAISE SOME HELL.

 

BOUGHT A GUITAR AT AGE THIRTEEN.

STARTED TO HAVE THOSE HONKY TONK DREAMS.

EVEN AT NIGHT LYIN’ IN MY BED,

I COULD HEAR THOSE DRUMS 

POUNDING IN MY HEAD.

 

IT’S THE CALL OF THE WILD.

LIKE THE SOUND OF A FREIGHT TRAIN

PULLIN’ OUT OF TOWN,

AND PICKIN’ UP STEAM.

IT’S THE CALL OF THE WILD.

IF YOU FEEL THAT RHYTHM,

LET IT INTO YOUR HEART,

LET IT INTO YOUR DREAMS.

 

JOINED MY FIRST LITTLE COUNTRY BAND.

THE WORLD LOOKED DIFFERENT

FROM ON THE BANDSTAND.

EVERY TIME THEY’D GIVE US HALF A CHANCE,

WE WOULD TURN IT UP LOAD,

AND LET THE LITTLE GIRLS DANCE.

 

ALL WE EVER WANTED TO DO

WAS GET AWAY.

SO WE PACKED UP THE VAN,

AND HEADED ON OUT,

AND WENT ROLLIN’ ON DOWN

THAT LONG HIGHWAY.

 

WORKIN’ ON THE ROAD,

JUST TO GET SOME KICKS.

PLAYED EVERY TOWN OUT IN THE STICKS.

ROLLIN’ DOWN THE HIGHWAY,

WITH THE RADIO ON,

HANK SINGS THE BLUES

IN THE EARLY DAWN.

 

IT’S THE CALL OF THE WILD.

LIKE THE CRY OF A LONELY WOLF

CALLIN’ TO HIS MATE

IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT.

THE CALL OF THE WILD.

IF YOU FEEL THAT RHYTHM,

LET IT INTO YOUR HEART,

AND EVERYTHING’S ALL RIGHT.

 

TIME MEANS NOTHING

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

 

MINUTES CREEP DOWN THE HALL,

WHILE I MARK OFF 

ANOTHER LONELY HOUR.

THE CLOCK HAS FALLEN FROM THE WALL,

AND I DON'T KNOW 

IF I HAVE GOT THE POWER

TO MAKE IT THROUGH ANOTHER DAY.

 

THE YEARS ARE PASSED OUT ON THE STAIRS,

LIKE SOME BUMS 

WHO'VE BEEN OUT ON A BENDER.

BUT I DON'T EVEN CARE, 

AND I FIND THAT 

IT'S HARD TO REMEMBER

HOW IT FELT WHEN YOU WERE HERE.

 

TIME IS PUMPING THROUGH 

THE VEINS OF ETERNITY.

BUT I AM JUST A FOOL IN LOVE, 

WHO WILL NEVER BE FREE,

SO TIME MEANS NOTHING TO ME.

TIME MEANS NOTHING TO ME.

 

THE SUNDIAL STANDS IN THE RAIN,

WHILE THE WEATHERMAN 

S DROWNING HIS SORROWS.

TODAY IS CLOUDY WITH PAIN,

AND I'M WAITING TO SEE IF TOMORROW

THE SUN IS GONNA SHINE AGAIN.

 

TIME IS PUMPING THROUGH 

THE VEINS OF ETERNITY.

BUT I AM JUST A FOOL IN LOVE, 

WHO WILL NEVER BE FREE,

SO TIME MEANS NOTHING TO ME.

TIME MEANS NOTHING TO ME.

 

TINSELTOWN

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

 

PLATINUM BLONDE

IN A GOLD CADILLAC

RACING DOWN A ROAD

WHERE THERE’S NO

TURNING BACK.

MONOGRAMMED SCARF

BLOWING IN THE BREEZE.

FLYING THROUGH THE SHADOWS

OF THE EUCALYPTUS TREES.

DRIVING THROUGH THE DUSK,

HEADING FOR THE SEA,

RUNNING

 

ON THE SILVER SCREEN

IN THE GOLDEN STATE.

THE FAN MAGAZINES

CALL YOU THEIR DREAM DATE.

A REFUGEE FROM

A MIDWEST TOWN.

NOW YOU’RE SO LOST,

YOU CAN’T BE FOUND.

ON AN ALABASTER CHEEK,

THERE’S AN INDIGO TEAR, RUNNING.

 

AS THE SUN

GOES DOWN

ON TINSELTOWN.

 

THERE’S A LITTLE MAN

WITH A BIG CIGAR

TALKING ON THE PHONE

IN THE WEE SMALL HOURS.

PACING THE FLOOR

AND WAVING HIS HANDS.

TRYING TO FIND THE FLAW

IN HIS WELL-MADE PLANS.

AND ON THE BACK LOT,

THERE’S A CAMERA THAT’S NOT

RUNNING.

 

AS THE MOON

SHINES DOWN

ON TINSELTOWN.

 

SO, IF YOU MAKE YOUR MARK

AND YOU MAKE YOUR NAME

DON’T GET BURNED

BY THE CANDLE’S FLAME.

ON AN EMPTY BEACH

IN THE EARLY DAWN,

THERE’S A COUPE DE VILLE

WITH THE HEADLIGHTS ON.

AND LYING THE SURF,

A GOLD WATCH HAS STOPPED

RUNNING.

 

AS THE SUN

COMES UP,

THE STARS

BURN OUT

IN TINSELTOWN.

 

WADDY

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/ bmi

 

I'M AN OLD WADDY,

SORE FROM THE SADDLE.

DRIVIN' THEM DOGGIES ALONG.

ACROSS THE RED RIVER,

THROUGH THE PANHANDLE,

SINGIN' THIS SAD COWBOY SONG.

 

THE TRAIL'S HOT AND DUSTY.

THE CATTLE ARE BAWLIN'.

THE SUN'S SINKIN' LOW IN THE WEST.

AT NIGHT BY THE CAMPFIRE,

COYOTES ARE CALLIN'.

I KEEP YOUR PICTURE IN MY VEST.

 

WILD BILL

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/ bmi

 

I LEFT A WIFE BACK IN ST. LOUIS.

LEFT THOSE CREATURE COMFORTS BEHIND.

RODE A STAGECOACH ACROSS THE PRAIRIE,

OUT TO DEADWOOD TO SEE WHAT I COULD FIND.

 

THEY’RE DIGGIN’ GOLD OUT OF THESE BLACK HILLS.

THERE’S GOLD IN THIS ROUGH AND TUMBLE TOWN.

AND WHEN THESE FOOLS AND THAT GOLD ARE PARTED,

I’LL BE HOLDIN’ ALL THE CARDS WHEN THAT DEAL GOES DOWN.

 

MY NAME IS JAMES, AND I CAN’T BE TAMED.

IF YOU CROSS ME, I WILL SHOOT TO KILL.

I’M A RAMBLER AND A GAMBLER.

I WAS GENERAL CUSTER’S SCOUT.

AND MOST FOLKS KNOW ME AS WILD BILL.

WILD BILL.

 

I DRINK MY WHISKEY WITH MY LEFT HAND,

ALWAYS KEEP MY RIGHT HAND FREE.

SIT WITH MY BACK AGAINST THE WALL,

DON’T WANT ANYONE SNEAKIN’ UP ON ME.

 

WHEN PLAYIN’ YOUR HAND IN THE WORLD OF MAN,

BE CAREFUL WHEN YOU’RE TEMPTING FATE.

UP AGAINST A FULL HOUSE, A WILD CARD MIGHT WIN OUT,

AND YOU’RE LEFT HOLDING ACES AND EIGHTS.

 

MY NAME IS JAMES, THAT’S HOW IT REMAINS

ON THE STONE UP ON BOOT HILL.

I WAS A UNION SOLDIER, I WAS SHERIFF OF ABILENE,

AND MOST FOLKS KNOW ME AS WILD BILL.

WILD BILL.

 

I LEFT A GRIEVING WIDOW IN ST. LOUIS,

AND I LEFT THIS LEGEND BEHIND.

NOW EVERYTHING’S CHANGED, AND ALL THAT REMAINS

IS MY STORY UP ON THIS SIGN.

 

MY NAME WAS JAMES, I WAS A FRIEND OF CALAMITY JANE’S,

BACK WHEN THE ONLY LAW WAS THE STRENGTH OF A MAN’S WILL.

I WAS A QUIET MAN WITH A SURE AND STEADY HAND,

AND MOST FOLKS KNEW ME AS WILD BILL.

WILD BILL.

 

YELLOW MOON

donald mccrea

©2015 mechanical arts/bmi

 

A MAN NAMED WAN HU

IN THE MING DYNASTY

WAY BACK IN

THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY

STRAPPED SOME ROCKETS

ONTO A CHAIR

AND, WHEN THEY EXPLODED

HE DISAPPEARED IN THIN AIR

 

NOW, ON THIS NIGHT

TO AN ANCIENT CHINESE TUNE

A YELLOW MAN IS DANCING

ON THE YELLOW MOON

 

LISTENING TO YANGTZE NN

TRYIN' TO CATCH UP

ON WHAT'S BEEN HAPPENIN'

THE REDS SENT A ROCKET

OUT INTO SPACE

AND HIT THE MAN IN THE MOON

RIGHT IN THE FACE

NOW, THE CAT AND THE FIDDLE

AND THE BIG BROWN COW

HAVE JUST BEEN JOINED

BY CHAIRMAN MAO

 

SO, ON THIS NIGHT

AFTER SOARING LIKE   

A YELLOW-BILLED LOON

A TAIKONAUT IS SLEEPING 

ON THE YELLOW MOON

 

DRIVING ALONG

IN MY SHANGHAI CHEVY

I KICKED A GONG

AND THINGS GOT HEAVY

WE'VE GOT A SITUATION

IN THE WORLD'S

SECOND LARGEST NATION

THEY SENT A BILLION PEOPLE

TO THEIR NEW 

SPACE STATION

 

AND, ON THIS NIGHT

WITHOUT A FORK OR A SPOON

THEY'RE FEASTING

ON MANDARIN DUCK

ON THE YELLOW MOON

 

NOW, ON THIS NIGHT

TO AN ANCIENT CHINESE TUNE

WAN HU IS DANCING

ON THE YELLOW MOON