Joni Mitchell: "Hejira"

I'm traveling in some vehicle
I'm sitting in some cafe
A defector from the petty wars
That shell shock love away
There's comfort in melancholy
When there's no need to explain
It's just as natural as the weather
In this moody sky today
In our possessive coupling
So much could not be expressed
So now I'm returning to myself
These things that you and I suppressed
I see something of myself in everyone
Just at this moment of the world
As snow gathers like bolts of lace
Waltzing on a ballroom girl

You know it never has been easy
Whether you do or you do not resign
Whether you travel the breadth of extremities
Or stick to some straighter line
Now here's a man and a woman sitting on a rock
They're either going to thaw out or freeze
Listen...
Strains of Benny Goodman
Coming thru' the snow and the pinewood trees
I'm porous with travel fever
But you know I'm so glad to be on my own
Still somehow the slightest touch of a stranger
Can set up trembling in my bones
I know - no one's going to show me everything
We all come and go unknown
Each so deep and superficial
Between the forceps and the stone

Well I looked at the granite markers
Those tribute to finality - to eternity
And then I looked at myself here
Chicken scratching for my immortality
In the church they light the candles
And the wax rolls down like tears
There's the hope and the hopelessness
I've witnessed thirty years
We're only particles of change I know, I know
Orbiting around the sun
But how can I have that point of view
When I'm always bound and tied to someone
White flags of winter chimneys
Waving truce against the moon
In the mirrors of a modern bank
From the window of a hotel room

I'm traveling in some vehicle
I'm sitting in some cafe
A defector from the petty wars
Until love sucks me back that way

--Joni Mitchell

Gillian Welch/David Rawlings: "The Weight"

with Old Crow Medicine Show

I pulled into Nazareth
I was feeling about half past dead
I just needed some place
where I can lay my head
"Hey mister, can you tell me
where a man might find a bed?"
He just grinned and shook my hand,
"No," was all he said

Take a load off, Annie
Take a load for free
Take a load off, Annie
and you put the load right on me

I picked up my bag
I went looking for a place to hide
when I saw Carmen and the Devil
walking side by side
I said, "Hey Carmen,
come on, let's go downtown"
She said "I gotta go
but my friend can stick around"

Crazy Chester followed me
and he caught me in the fog
He said "I will fix your rat
if you'll take Jack my dog"
I said "Wait a minute, Chester,
you know I'm a peaceful man"
He said "That's okay, boy,
won't you feed him when you can?"

Go down Miss Moses,
there's nothing you can say
It's just old Luke
and Luke's waiting on the judgement day
"Well, Luke, my friend,
what about young Annalee?"
He said, "Do me a favor, son,
won't you stay and keep Annalee company?"

Catch a cannonball
now to take me down the line
My bag is sinking low
and I do believe it's time
to get back to Miss Annie,
you know she's the only one
who sent me here
with her regards for everyone

John Hartford: "Going To Work In Tall Buildings"

1987 Philadelphia Folk Festival

Donovan: "Celeste"

here i stand acting
like a silly clown would
i don't know why
would anybody like to try
the changes i'm going through?
a hidden lie would fortify
something that don't exist
but it ain't so bad
i'm just a lad
so many more things to do
i intend to come right through
them all with you

my songs are merely dreams
visiting my mind
we talk a while
by a crooked stile
you're lucky to catch a few
there's no magic wand in a perfumed hand,
it's a pleasure to be true.
in my crystal halls a feather falls
being beautiful just for you
but that might not be quite true
that's up to you

dawn crept in unseen to find me still awake
a strange young girl sang her songs for me
and left before the day was born
that dark princess with saddening jest
she lowered her eyes of woe
and i felt her sigh
i wouldn't like to try
the changes she's going through
but i hope love comes right through
them all with you

--donovan leitch ("celeste")

Ian Tyson/Jerry Jeff Walker

"Summer Wages" from 1991 in Austin, Texas

never hit seventeen
when you play against the dealer
you know that the odds
won't ride with you
never leave your woman alone
with your friends around to steal her
she'll be gambled and gone
like summer wages

Bonaparte's Retreat

Aly Bain--fiddle
Jerry Douglas--dobro
Danny Thompson--bass
Tommy Hayes--percussion
Michael Doucet--fiddle
Russ Barenberg--guitar
Donald Shaw--piano

Judy Collins: "Maid of Constant Sorrow"

all through this world i’m bound to ramble
through sun and wind and driving rain
i’m bound to ride the western railway
perhaps i’ll take the very next train

Tom Russell: "Guadalupe"

There are ghosts out in the rain tonight/High up in those ancient trees/Lord, I've given up without a fight/Another blind fool on his knees/And all the Gods that I've abandoned/Begin to speak in simple tongues/Lord, suddenly I've come to know/There are no roads left to run/Now it's the hour of dogs a-barking/That's what the old ones used to say/It's first light or it's sundown/Before the children cease their play/When the mountains glow like mission wine/And turn grey like a Spanish roan/Ten thousand eyes will stop to worship/And turn away and head on home/She is reaching out her arms tonight/Lord, my poverty is real/I pray roses shall rain down on me/From Guadalupe on her hill/But who am I to doubt these mysteries/Cured in centuries of blood and candle smoke/I am the least of all your pilgrims here/I am most in need of hope/She appeared to Juan Diego/She left her image on his cape/Five hundred years of sorrow/Have not destroyed their deepest faith/But here I am your ragged disbeliever/Old doubting Thomas drowns in tears/As I watched your church sink through the earth/Like a heart worn down through fear/She is reaching out her arms tonight/Lord, my poverty is real/I pray roses shall rain down on me/From Guadalupe on her hill/But who am I to doubt these mysteries/Cured in centuries of blood and candle smoke/I am the least of all your pilgrims here/But I am most in need of hope/I am the least of all your pilgrims here/But I am most in need of hope

April Verch: "A Riverboat's Gone"

for John Hartford