Lonesome Country Blues #13 Video (MV)

"I was walking through the snow one night
Walking from bar to bar
And this is, a song
About that night
Or at least, what I can recall of it"

I fumbled my way through
Nocturne serenades, it was the
Middle of winter, one of the coldest winters that
I can recall
As I stumbled on by, I thought I was doing
These old songs justice
Though I was half cut by this point and searching
For my next haul

Now the funny thing is
The songs that I was singing, well they
Helped me, on my
Way
And I thought to myself, Now wouldn't it be
Something, If I could write a song Just like the
Ones That my
Dad used to
Play

Now I was born in the country,
I grew up in the country and I've lived through hardships
But nothing that the next man hasn't
Seen
Now I tried to remember what those old
Country songs were about
Those ones that just needed a good guitar
To guide them on in

And I'm not gonna try and tell you
What a country song is
All I'm saying
Is write what you know
So I started piecing together these words
Hoping the tune would follow whilst I
Battled
Through the
Snow

I finally found a place to drink
The door was an effort
So I used both hands, as the cold and the drink had
Made me weak
Logs were burning on the fire
But the light was low/ Sounds clichéd when I sing it now
Still I was thankful to let my body
Succumb to the heat

I must have ordered me a whisky, cause that's what I
Drank at the time, neat with ice
People say you're not meant to drink whisky with ice
But I don't know why
And as I sat on down
I kept myself to myself and
Waited for my
Boots to
Dry

There was a piano in the corner, looked as if it hadn't been
Played for a while
More for decoration now
Than for to try
This place was quiet and seemed
Wasted and tired, but while I was
There my throat was never
Dry

And the walls they rattled as the
Trains went past, this place was
Built by a railroad - like in many of them old
Towns/Songs they are
And it was such a mismatched room
There were records on the wall
And postcards which were
Pinned up
Behind the
Bar

I knew I wanted to finish this here song
I mean I had gotten this far
So I asked the young man serving if he had
A pen
You see, though ink is pale
And paper dulls it was still
Sharper than my mind was
Then

Even the devil ain't immune
To the charms of a good song
So I was in good company
That night
Yes I was happy enough to be sat
There in the dust and watch desperate
Flames
Flicker and
Fight

Now I was fed up of writing
Songs about love
Love was as cruel as
Life was harsh
And I couldn't bear to sing
Another sad song
About all the folks that I had
Lost

I had my fill of songs about
Crooks and sinners and
Stories of those who govern and
Mislead
So I figured that this was
As good a time as any to write one of them
Country songs for my
Dad
Instead

So I put away another drink
I forget how many I had and I
Tried to write, which was easier said than
Done
And as I stooped over these
Old torn pages just like a drunk
Trying to write
This song

I thought, shall I sing about
Working class heroes or about some sweet
Girl, walking on home in her
Summer dress
Or about how travelling men say it's the
Millage and not the years but then how
Is it that they
Still know
Less?

Dad he used to listen to them
Lonesome country blues
And his dad used to listen to them too, ooo ooo ooo
What goes around must come around
But there ain't no songs like that today, so
Here's a song that I'm dusting off for you

Dad he used to listen to them
Lonesome country blues
And his dad used to listen to them too, ooo ooo ooo
What goes around must come around
But there ain't no songs like that right now, so
Here's a song that I'm dusting off for you