Men From God Knows Where

The men from god knows where...down at the Raven's Wing..the lushed-up women...the bar poets and drawfs...little people, I guess...laughing their ass off..and scared shitless...midway grifters...from god knows where.1

Junkie jobs: hot walkers, creamry workers, musicians on street corners, carnie workers of all dimensions, and dreamers. Schemers, those drunken Irish men...now gone and won't be back again.2

Those not fit for radio songs, the Mex/Tex songs mingled with hillbilly folk, and this ain't joke...true damn story...back from the war and all the glory..ain't no body's what I own....end up in debtors prison..listening to Dave Van Ronk, that much.3

Irish fiddle kicking up...all that sad debris 'bout you and me.4

All those couch sleepers, daytime believers, and nighttime weepers.5

Glimpses of railroad men..all gone and not coming back again.6

Those voices from real men singing real songs...about shit....life, mostly..sad songs, about bad men, bad women, bar songs. Stuff.7

And those dancing tunes that come across the short wave late at night when all the straights are sleeping waiting for Sunday to come. Those songs that made you move your boots in a western polka, or sawdust shuffle. Those songs now haunt my mind. Listening to the tune to come back around.8