There’s deadman walkin’ in my shoes
‘Cause without you honey, I ain’t got nothing to lose
And the rainfall in the creek
And my shotgun and my heart are growing cold
Apple brandy tastes like water
And the deer up on the mountain are growin’ old.
Hemony, Dumery, Haze and Dehaze and how!
So ring the bell out loud now
Deadman comin’ through.
In the diner by the lake
Where the summer folks I hear
Are all laughin’ inside
But without you I ain’t got nothing
No more to hide, I know it’s true
Down at the Five ‘n’ Dime
Me an’ Jimmy Dean
We c’n choose to go
But I choose to drink my last drink
Breathe my last song
Lookin’ at you.
Hemony, Dumery, Haze and Dehaze and how!
So ring the bell out loud now
Deadman comin’ through.
I’m down, down where I’m goin’
Where I’m going
Without you.
© L. Duffy-Howard
Hawk Moon
C’mon c’mon we’re goin’, we’re settin’ off soon
And we’ll get there by the light of Hawk Moon
The shooting stars trailing a blaze in our wake
And the sky’s travelling backwards
It’ll be here come
Daybreak
The rain hits the windscreen at ninety at night
As our throats hit the whisky
We’re travelling light
Through the town and the city
We’ve never seen
When the whisky’s all gone
We’ll taste the sea
The sea green.
© Duffy-Howard
Sic Transit Gloria Mundi
My world may be just for you but this land’s for everyone
Quarrelling sons sell to folk out east
But the name still goes on
‘Own your own on Atlantic Plain’
For a few dollars more, so much to gain
And the Derwin-Earls’ have weekend guests
Town folk make country fun
Buy a cowboy hat for the wild, wild west
And shoot from the hip, yeah, me n Al Capone
‘Til the moon’s like a plate on the dresser shelf
And the tales of the Were-deer come
But country life don’t turn out good
You move on back east to the neighbourhood
Let the apples rot on Antler Hill
While the milkweed feeds the monarch still
And the old Canuck talks of Loup-Garou
And the Were-deer on the run.
See the moon like a plate on the dresser shelf
“I want you baby, want you all for myself”
Yeah the moon’s like a plate on the dresser shelf
“And I want you baby, want you all for myself”
And the old Canuck talks of Loup-Garou
And the Were-deer on the run.
Here he comes!
Here comes Loup-Garou!
So it’s bye bye baby, baby, baby bye bye
You know he’s gonna get you matter how you try…
Spiral Angel’s in the city tonight
Gonna make it, make it baby,
Gonna make it alright,
Alright!
© Duffy-Howard
American Dust
When I was young the road ahead was so long
The sea was so far and hot was the sand
We played down the junkyard shooting bottles and cans
I walk home slowly with the red red sun
To the place on the corner by the all-night
Look through the window at the funeral pyre
She won’t be running with me no more
We’re Dust…American…Dust
Dust…American…Dust
So the Wind Won’t Blow It All Away
Dust…American…Dust
I guess that tomorrow I’ll be down at the pond
Where the sun on the water make my hair white blond
If the watchman reaches for another beer
I’ll get a penny at the all-night store
The road is long but sun down calls
In the apple orchard shadows fall
I miss the can but Shoot The Man
We’re Dust…American…Dust
Dust…American…Dust
So the Wind Won’t Blow It All Away
Dust…American…Dust
No the Wind Won’t Blow It All Away
Dust…American…Dust
We’re Dust…American…Dust
© L. Duffy-Howard
You can hear American Dust on the Audio Recordings page of the Richard Brautigan Legacy site – http://www.brautigan.net/index.html