1. |
Pastures of Plenty
03:25
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Pastures Of Plenty
It's a mighty hard row that my poor hands have hoed
My poor feet have traveled a hot dusty road
Out of your Dust Bowl and Westward we rolled
And your deserts were hot and your mountains were cold
I worked in your orchards of peaches and prunes
I slept on the ground in the light of the moon
On the edge of the city you'll see us and then
We come with the dust and we go with the wind
California, Arizona, I harvest your crops
Well its North up to Oregon to gather your hops
Dig the beets from your ground, cut the grapes from your vine
To set on your table your light sparkling wine
Green pastures of plenty from dry desert ground
From the Grand Coulee Dam where the waters run down
Every state in the Union us migrants have been
We'll work in this fight and we'll fight till we win
It's always we rambled, that river and I
All along your green valley, I will work till I die
My land I'll defend with my life if need be
Cause my pastures of plenty must always be free
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2. |
'Round My Door
03:40
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‘Round My Door
A tractor’s in the tobacco field
Turning the red clay ‘round
All along the cane break line
That borders into town
Dogwood and the Redbud’s there
Color up the mountainside
‘Till you can’t see ‘em anymore
All this ‘round my door
The mountain is a big brown bear
Sleeping off the wintertime
Frost hangs on the sourwood trees
And the sweet woodbine
Wood smoke and the morning clouds
Peel off the pines
‘Till you can’t see it anymore
All this ‘round my door
The French Broad is a mighty dame
From Carolina and Tennessee
She run high and she run low
But she’s always running free
I go down and see her some
Cast my troubles in the deep
‘Till I can’t see ‘em anymore
All this ‘round my door
Right is west and left is east
The sun is in my eyes
We’re heaven high and hell deep
On this moonshine
The holler is a peaceful place
Hear the lonesome whistle cry
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3. |
Cotton From The Clay
03:32
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Cotton from the Clay
The grove of trees stood naked in the January morn
A cold north wind blew bitter tossing blackbirds o’er the corn
The Interstate lay empty but for truckers keeping warm
Hammer down emerging from the storm
From Tupelo to Birmingham it’s like a pilgrims walk
I turn on the radio just to hear the Preachers talk
Every time I come down here it takes my breath away
How the cotton rises from the clay
How the cotton rises white and holy in its boll
Spread out like a welcome by the miles I roll
Every time I come down here, it takes my breath away
How the cotton rises from the clay
This kudzu-covered barn lay sleeping like a beast
As if one fell swoop expired it and now it rests in peace
River rises on the floodplain making trouble once again
Mississippi’s reaching for a friend
Bones of Sycamore grow through the tangled brush
Some old farmsteads vanished now underneath the crush
There ain’t nothing here no more but a lonesome hush
There ain’t another earthly word to say
Oh but, how the cotton rises white and holy in its boll
Spread out like a welcome by the miles I roll
Every time I come down here it takes my breath away
How the cotton rises from the clay
How the cotton rises from the clay
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4. |
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5. |
Everett Ruess
04:49
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Everett Ruess
In the spring of nineteen-thirty at sixteen years of age
With restlessness inside I hitched out of L.A.
I hiked upon the coastline and under lofty pines
By the mournful crash of breakers my sleep was deep and fine
I wondered and I wandered out to Yosemite
Shoe leather on the mountains I vagabond for beauty, for beauty
In the year of thirty-one I turned seventeen
And heard the desert calling me to Monument Valley
I tramped behind my burros, Pegasus and Pericles
With my pencils and my paintbrush I went where I pleased
Oh the warm and perfect colors my eyes did behold
And the wild, raging silence my heart did enfold, unresisting
From Kayenta east to Shiprock the scarlet cactus blooms
And the smell of sage is sweet by the Mesa Verde moon
My solitude unbroken I’m roaring drunk with life
All the world a riot of sensual delight
Here in the utter stillness high on a lonely cliffs edge
Where the air trembles with lightning I give the wind my pledge, my pledge
I shall sing my song above the shriek of desert winds
Burned and starved and weary I’ll sing out again
I’ll never leave the grace that haunts me everyday
On the canyon trail I have found my way, my way
November thirty-four I left Escalante town
Something in me knows that I am glory bound
Across the Colorado River to the Arizona side
All that you will know was that I found my ride
My body will expire in the golden burning light
A moth into the flame of a starry, starry night
Here in the utter stillness high on a lonely cliffs edge
Where the air trembles with lightning I give the wind my pledge, my pledge
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6. |
Bottomland
04:02
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7. |
Spokane
01:34
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Spokane
The horizon is a line
That circles me around
At my feet there is a road
That will take me where I’m bound
My pockets, they are empty
But oh my heart is full
And I’m am for want of nothing
But a life that is not cruel
Now I am steady rolling
The Columbia by my side
And Spokane is where I’m heading
Then across the great divide
Tell me who are your heroes
Tell me who are your friends
Tell me who are your loved ones
Who will hold you in the end
My advice is to go and find them
To them you must be true
So across this parched desert
I am riding back to you
Now I am steady rolling
The Columbia by my side
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8. |
Boys Of The Tracks
03:08
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Boys Of The Tracks
Boys of the tracks are on the ramble
Boys of the tracks are on the roll
They’re looking for a place to winter over
Looking for a way to come out of the cold
I seen them on the overpass now
Seen them walking single file
They got lightness in their worries
They got troubles in their smiles
Gonna find an old house up on the north side
Big and drafty, that’s ok
Find some cheap rent and share the labor
Laying low for a warmer day
Set on down that oilskin rucksack
Set aside them steel toe boots
Peel on back that cardboard case there
There’s rosin on the mantle too
Hand me down that old brown bottle
Pass around that reefer too
Hit up a tune up on the gut string banjer
There’s nothing more we have to do
Sing to me ‘bout wide Montana
But make me a picture of Tennessee
I got hunger in all this plenty
There’s no place I’d rather be
I got love with an endless highway
I got war with the powers that be
Kick out the bums and get your ready
Let’s get on with being free
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9. |
Watercolor Eyes
04:00
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Watercolor Eyes
What I've always found in you
Is how you help me see
A pallet of the earth and sky
Through your watercolor eyes
What I've always loved in you
Are the subtle shades
Between the gold, tan and brown
The silver and the grey
What you've often shown to me
Is how the light will fall
To illuminate a certain place
Make a shadow on the wall
Way out there where you choose to live
Salmon clouds are swimming around
Bring me down to my knees
Make me kiss the ground
Passing roads of furrowed fields
Of alternating greens
A big old hawk flies overhead
Who can know what he sees
It's like I'm looking through your eyes
At pods of dried milkweed
Pitch them up into the wind
Scatter all the seeds
A whitewashed fence, a turning leaf
A curve upon the road
The sky's reflection on the pond
I wonder what's beneath
I look for you in Iowa
Kansas and Nebraska too
Anyplace you follow me
Every place you change the view
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10. |
My Peach Pie
03:08
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My Peach Pie
Old man Joe
Old man Joe
Old man Joe with a line and a pole
Went to the river one day
One fine day
One fine day
One fine day he had nothing to say
But Lord, bring me supper tonight
Cluck old hen
Cluck old hen
Cluck old hen eggs in a pan
Feed all the railroad men
Hobo stew
Hobo stew
Hobo stew ain’t nothing new
Better than nothing at all
When I get home
When I get home
When I get home and get you alone
Have I got something for you
My peach pie
My peach pie
My peach pie, shout and cry
Make you shout and cry
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11. |
Canoe Club Waltz
03:04
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12. |
Hell On Wheels
04:18
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Hell On Wheels
The tramp so loves the sound of the whistle
And sleeps by the music of the tracks
Here his satchel is full of thistle
And a banjo slung across his back
He’ll play to you the Hangman’s Reel
Learned from his experience
And sing to you ‘bout hell on wheels
The Lords own way of taking rent
Eighteen hundred sixty seven
They was grading on the U.P. line
Laying track across Wyoming
Through the dust and alkali
From North Platte to Promontory
They murdered, gambled, whored, and thieved
Hell on wheels in all its glory
The wild west had sewed its seeds
Veterans from the north and south were
Laying iron side by side
Join the East unto the West, sir
Coast to coast now we shall ride
When I was a kid in California
After school we’d walk the tracks
I’d put my ears down to the rail
And hear the echoes coming back
What I heard were distant voices
In a language I did not understand
Older now I hear the whistle
And know the stories of the land
Hell on wheels
Hell on wheels
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Dana and Susan Robinson Cabot, Vermont
"From Cabot, Vermont – Americana-roots and folk duo, Dana and Susan Robinson combine vivid, songwriting with fiddle tunes, oldtime banjo, elegant melodies, and rich harmony singing."
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