Merle Haggard + Willie Nelson

Originally a troubled youngster who served time in San Quentin prison (from 1957 through 1960), California native Merle Haggard [1937-2016] grew to become a country music legend. With 38 number one hits and 250 original songs, he remains one of the best-known and most covered artists in country music.

♦  ‘Branded Man’  ↓  [1968]

I’d like to hold my head up and be proud of who I am
But they won’t let my secret go untold
I paid the debt I owed ‘em, but they’re still not satisfied
Now I’m a branded man out in the cold . . .

When they let me out of prison, I held my head up high
Determined I would rise above the shame
But no matter where I traveled, the black mark follows me
I’m branded with a number on my name

I‘d like to hold my head up . . .

If I live to be a hundred, I guess I’ll never clear my name
‘Cause everybody knows I’ve been in jail
No matter where I’m living, I’ve got to tell them where I’ve been
Or they’ll send me back to prison if I fail

I’d like to hold my head up . . .

∞ w/ Johnny Cash ⇓  [Jimmie Rogers medley]

T for Texas, T for Tennesee  (Lawd, Lawd)
T for Texas, T for Tennessee  (Hey – hey – hey)
and T for Thelma
The gal that made a wreck out of me.

I’m gonna buy me a shotgun
Just as long as I’m tall,  (Lawd, Lawd)
I’m gonna buy me a shotgun
Just as long as I’m tall  (‘What are you gonna do with it?’)
I’m gonna shoot poor Thelma
Just to see her jump and fall.

I love the women, I love ‘em all the same
Yeah, I love the women, I love ‘em all the same
But I don’t love nobody, well enough to change his name

And the women make a fool out of me

Hey my pappa scolded me,  my mamma just sat and cried
My pappa scolded me, and my mamma just sat and cried
She said, I got too many women, for any little boy my size

And the women make a fool out of me

When I’m in the parlour, the girls think it’s a treat
Yeah when I’m in the parlour, the girls think it’s a treat
And even in the wintertime, they turn off the heat

And the women make a fool out of me    […Yodel]

◊   ‘I’m a White Boy’  ⇓

Some folks call me a ramblin’ man
I do a lot of thumbin’ and kickin’ cans
And it wouldn’t do an ounce of good to call me names
Cause daddy’s name wasn’t Wille Woodrow
And I wasn’t born and raised in no ghetto
Just a white boy lookin’ for a place to do my thang.

Well I’m out to find me a wealthy woman
And a line of work that don’t take no diploma
I ain’t got much to lose but got a lot to gain
Yeah some might call me a good time fella
I ain’t black and, I ain’t yella
Just a white boy lookin’ for a place to do my thang.

Yeah I don’t want no handout livin’
And don’t want a part of anything they’re givin’
I’m proud and white and I got a song to sing
Well I’ve said a few things and I’ll admit it
If you want to get ahead you got to hump and get it
I’m A White Boy lookin’ for a place to do my thang.

Yeah I’m a small town boy been around a little
I like guitars and I like a fiddle
And that’s the kind of soul it take to fan my flame
Well I’m a blue eyed Billy kind of feared and ready
So I’ll have to work to be somebody
I’m A White Boy lookin’ for a place to do my thang.

Yeah I don’t want no handout livin’ . . .
I’m A White Boy lookin’ for a place to do my thang.

♦ → ‘Kern River’  ↓

I’ll never swim Kern River again.
It was there that I met her – It was there that I lost my best friend.
Now I live in the mountains – I drifted up here with the wind.
And I may drown in still water,  but I’ll never swim Kern River again.

I grew up in an oil town,  but my gusher never came in.
And the river was a boundary,  where my darlin’ and I used to swim.
One night in the moonlight,  the swiftness swept her life away.
Now I live on Lake Shasta,  and Lake Shasta is where I will stay.

There’s the South San Joaquin,  where the seeds of the dust bowl are found.
And there’s a place called Mount Whitney,  from where the mighty Kern River comes down.
Well, it’s not deep nor wide,  but it’s a mean piece of water, my friend.
And I may cross on the highway,  but I’ll never swim Kern River again.

I’ll never swim Kern River again.
It was there I first met her …  It was there that I lost my best friend.
And now I live in the mountains – I drifted up here with the wind.
And I may drown in still water,  but I’ll never swim Kern River again.

⇓  ‘Footlights’

I live the kinda life that most men only dream of
I make my livin’ writin’ songs and singin’ them
But I’m forty-one years old and I ain’t got no place to go when it’s over
So I hide my age and make the stage and try to kick the footlights out again.

I throw my old guitar across the stage and then my bassman takes the ball
And the crowd goes nearly wild to see my guitar nearly fall
After twenty years of pickin’ we’re still alive and kickin’ down some wall
Tonight we’ll kick the footlights out and walk away without a curtain call.

Tonight we’ll kick the footlights out again
And try to hide the mood we’re really in
Might not put on our old Instamatic grin
Tonight we’ll kick the footlights out again.

I live the kinda life  . . .

◊    ‘Silver Ghost’   ⇓

On a cold and rainy night I was sittin’ in the light
Oh my switchman shack of mine post on the mountain
The storms were pretty bad and the telephone was dead
But it was just eleven hours till the dawn.

Then much to my surprise the telegraph jumped in the light
As I read the code I thought could this be true
The train was on its way headed up to mountain grade
But she didn’t have no engineer or crew.

At the other switch they tried to put her on the mountain side
But she kept on coming up the mountain grade
But I quickly dowse the light to try to see into the night
Maybe I could spot her headlight in the rain.

She was poundin’ down below I could hear her whistle blow
And I thought Lord that’s a high and mournful sound
Then the telegraph again there’s a caving in the mine
And the hundred men have buried neath the ground.

Lord, she’s coming now I see her round the bend and straight at me
And her ballet is glowin’ red as coal in hell
The headlight switchin’ wide searchin’ all the mountain side
But the only sound she’s making, it’s a wail.

Then I recognized the train by the number and the name
It’s from miners Silver Ghost 0-40-1
Then she vanished up the track by the lonely switchman shack
Like a mother who was looking for her son.

Now I heard the story how an engine went to glory
Over fifty years ago in the same line
It was steaming for the caving there were men needed saving
But it missed the curve in trestle near the mine.

And every now and then you’ll hear a whistle on the wind
It’s from mountain slides where many men’re lost
It’s a high and lonely wail and searching up and down the mountain
It’s the train they call the Miners Silver Ghost.

The train they call the Miners Silver Ghost . . .

∇  ‘Heaven Was A Drink Of Wine’

That psycho, that psychologist asked me about my drinking ways
Every question that he asked me, all related back on to my childhood days
But if the truth was known, I never took the drinking long, long as she was mine
But when she left me I went to hell – Heaven was a drink of wine

∞  ‘Okie from Muskogee’   ↓  [with Willie Nelson]

We don’t smoke marijuana in Muskogee;
We don’t take our trips on LSD
We don’t burn our draft cards down on Main Street;
We like livin’ right, and bein’ free.

I’m proud to be an Okie from Muskogee,
A place where even squares can have a ball
We still wave Old Glory down at the courthouse,
And white lightnin’s still the biggest thrill of all

We don’t make a party out of lovin’;
We like holdin’ hands and pitchin’ woo;
We don’t let our hair grow long and shaggy,
Like the hippies out in San Francisco do.

And I’m proud to be an Okie from Muskogee,
A place where even squares can have a ball.
We still wave Old Glory down at the courthouse,
And white lightnin’s still the biggest thrill of all.

Leather boots are still in style for manly footwear;
Beads and Roman sandals won’t be seen.
Football’s still the roughest thing on campus,
And the kids here still respect the college dean.

We still wave Old Glory down at the courthouse,
In Muskogee, Oklahoma, USA.

*  *  *

◊   ‘Listening  (to the Wind)’  ⇓

Listening to the wind – Trying to hear the voice of a distant friend
Wishing you and I were close again listening to the wind

Listening to the breeze as it whispers through the poplar trees
Do you think of me way back then? Do you listen to the wind?

Listening to the night – Wishing we could hold and squeeze each other tight
I can almost hear the stars so bright – Do you listen to the night?

Listening to the sound of a highway through some distant town
I can almost hear the pale moonlight – Do you listen to the night?

Listening to my mind – Searching through my thoughts for the perfect line
Using tricks and telepathy at times – Do you listen to your mind?

Listening to the breeze as it whispers through the poplar trees
Wishing you and I were close again just listening to the wind

◊   ‘Misery and Gin’  ↓

Memories and drinks don’t mix too well.
Jukebox records don’t play those wedding bells.
Lookin’ at the world through the bottom of a glass,
All I see is a man who’s fading fast.
Tonight I need that woman again.
What I’d give for my baby to just walk in.
Sit down beside me and say: «It’s alright.
«Take me home and make sweet love to me tonight.»

But here I am again, mixin’ misery and gin.
Sittin’ with all my friends and talkin’ to myself.
I look like I’m havin’ a good time but any fool can tell,
That this Honky Tonk Heaven really makes ya’ feel like hell.

I light a lonely woman’s cigarette,
We both start talkin’ ‘bout what we want to forget.
Her life story and mine are the same.
We both lost someone and only have ourselves to blame.

But here I am again, mixin’ misery and gin.
Sittin’ with all my friends and talkin’ to myself.
I look like I’m havin’ a good time but any fool can tell,
That this Honky Tonk Heaven really makes ya’ feel like hell.

♣  …introduced by Willie Nelson  ↓   ‘Mama Tried’  [2004]

The first thing I remember knowing was a lonesome whistle blowing
And a young’un’s dream of growing up to ride
On a freight train leaving town – Not knowing where I’m bound
And no one could change my mind but Mama tried

One and only rebel child in a family meek and mild
My mama seemed to know what lay in store
Despite all my Sunday learning for the better I kept on turning
Till Mama couldn’t hold me anymore

And I turned twenty-one in prison doing life without parole
No one could steer me right but Mama tried, Mama tried
Mama tried to raise me better, but her pleading I denied
That leaves only 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
Working hours without rest – Wanted me to have the best
She tried to raise me right but I refused

And I turned twenty-one in prison doing life without parole
No one could steer me right but Mama tried, Mama tried
Mama tried to raise me better, but her pleading I denied
That leaves only me to blame ‘cause Mama tried

♦  ‘Hobo Bill’s Last Ride’  ↓ [J. Rodgers]

Riding on the eastbound freight train speeding through the night
Hobo Bill the railroad bum was fighting for his life
The sadness of his eyes revealed the torture of his soul
He raised a weak and weary hand to brush away the coal.
Hey ho-bo Bill.

No warm lights flickered round him, no blankets there to hold
Nothing but the howling wind and the driving rain so cold
When he heard a whistle blowing in a dreamy kind of way
The hobo seemed contented for he smile there where he lay.
Hey ho-bo Bill.

Outside the rain was falling on the lonely boxcar door
But the little form of Hobo Bill lay dead upon the floor
And there was no mother longing to soothe his weary soul
But he was just a hobo and he died out in the fall.
Hey ho-bo Bill…

÷      ÷      ÷                  ÷      ÷      ÷

¤  Willie Nelson

♦  Hit Medley On The Grand Ole Opry ↓ (1965)

◊  ‘On The Road Again’  ↓ (Live @ The Grand Ole Opry)

⇐‘Always On My Mind’

∞  ‘Pancho & Leftie’  ↓ [with Merle Haggard]

Living on the road my friend, Was gonna keep you free and clean.
Now you wear your skin like iron – Your breath as hard as kerosene.
You weren’t your mama’s only boy, but her favorite one it seems.
She began to cry when you said goodbye,
And sank into your dreams.

Pancho was a bandit boy – His horse was fast as polished steel.
He wore his gun outside his pants for all the honest world to feel.
Pancho met his match you know on the deserts down in Mexico,
Nobody heard his dying words,
Ah but that’s the way it goes.

All the Federales say,  They could have had him any day
They only let him slip away, out of kindness, I suppose.

Lefty, he can’t sing the blues  all night long like he used to.
The dust that Pancho bit down south  ended up in Lefty’s mouth.
The day they laid poor Pancho low,   Lefty split for Ohio.
Where he got the bread to go,   There ain’t nobody knows.

She is gone  –  But she was here
and her presence is still heavy in the air
oh what a taste of human love
now she is gone and it don’t matter anymore.

Passing dreams  in the night
it was more than just a woman and a man
it was love  without disguise
And now my life will never be the same again

♦  ‘Gravedigger’  ↓  [2007]

Cyrus Jones from 1810 to 1913
Made his great grandchildren believe he could live to a 103
A hundred and three is forever when you’re just a little kid
So, Cyrus Jones lived forever

Gravedigger, when you dig my grave
Could you make it shallow so that I can feel the rain – Gravedigger

Muriel Stonewall from 1903 to 1954
She lost both of her babies in the second great war
Now, you should never have to watch your only children lowered in the ground
That means you should never have to bury your own babies

Gravedigger, when you dig my grave
Could you make it shallow so that I can feel the rain – Gravedigger

Ring around the rosey  –  Pocket full o’posey
Ashes to ashes  –  We all fall down

Gravedigger, when you dig my grave
Could you make it shallow so that I can feel the rain – Oh Gravedigger

Little Mikey Carson ’67 to ’75
He rode his bike like the devil until the day he died
When he grows up he wants to be Mr. Vertigo on the flying trapeze, oh
1940 to 1992

Gravedigger, when you dig my grave
Could you make it shallow so that I can feel the rain
Gravedigger . . .

♦  ‘Roll Me Up and Smoke Me When I Die’ ↓  [2013]

Roll me up and smoke me when I die
And if anyone don’t like it, just look ‘em in the eye
I didn’t come here, and I ain’t leavin’
So don’t sit around and cry
Just roll me up and smoke me when I die.

Now, you won’t see no sad and teary eyes
When I get my wings and it’s my time to fly
Call my friends and tell ‘em
There’s a party, come on by
Now just roll me up and smoke me when I die.

Roll me up and smoke me when I die
And if anyone don’t like it, just look ‘em in the eye
I didn’t come here, and I ain’t leavin’
So don’t sit around and cry
Just roll me up and smoke me when I die.

Take me out and build a roaring fire
Roll me in the flames for about an hour
Then take me out and twist me up
And point me towards the sky
And roll me up and smoke me when I die.

Roll me up and smoke me when I die
And if anyone don’t like it, just look ‘em in the eye
I didn’t come here, and I ain’t leavin’
So don’t sit around and cry
Just roll me up and smoke me when I die.