1. Five Little Sinners
2. When I Was a Little Wee Babe
3. Good Time Girl
4. The Wayward Sister
5. It's the Actor's Life for Me
6. The Ballad of Fannie Mae Garrettson
7. Simon Peter
8. I Ain't Dead Yet
9. A Bell Jar in Washington Square
10. I'll Get You Coming and Going
11. Woman in Black
12. I'm Going to Join the Foreign Legion
13. The Ballad of Mysterious Dave Mather
14. From Austin to Abilene
15. Goodbye Big Jim
16. My Heart Belongs in Illinois
17. When You Shuffle Off This Mortal Coil
18. Asenaloogah
19. Alas I'm a Poor Little Woodpecker
20. I'm a Little More Comfortable
21. Fester in the Western Sun
22. The Great Cimarron Cyclone


1. FIVE LITTLE SINNERS
w&m by Phillip Michael Craver; ©℗ 2020 Sapsucker Publishing BMI; additional music from the "Battle Hymn of the Republic"

They met up on a steamboat and they rode the rails with Sarah Bernhardt
On her way to Kansas, in the lap of luxury
But she kicked 'em off in a cornfield just west of the Texas line
Now they're tired & broke, like carnival folk, nothing left to do but whine:

CHORUS: Five little sinners in search of a saint it seems
Living on bosh and moonshine, wakin' in a western dream
Breakfast and dinners, a table in the shade
Tenting on the old camp ground, reckon they got it made
Reckon they got it made

Here's Frederick Forsythe Fosdick, actor extraordinaire,
He's been known to play the classics from Shakespeare to Moliere
And there's Mould the undertaker but he likes to tread the boards
And sing some creepy songs for you, songs with creepy chords
CHORUS

And here's Ollie O'Shaughnessy - the fastest gun they say
Through this wild and wicked world he's trying to make his way
And there's Miss Dora Hand, you know she set out for the west
Ended up in Indiana, I'll spare you all the rest
CHORUS

And here's Miss Fannie Mae Garrettson she always gets top billing
She entertains the cowboys and she keeps their beer mugs filling
She works the hurdy gurdies, she's "The Texas Nightingale"
She's misplaced several husbands, but Lord it's just as well
CHORUS 2 X


2. WHEN I WAS A LITTLE WEE BABE
w&m by Phillip Michael Craver; ©℗ 2002 & 2020 Sapsucker Publishing BMI

When I was a little wee babe I was often very much afraid
Of bullies and beasts and to say the least I was shy, I don't know why
I didn't play at sport like the other boys - I wasn't fond of guns and other toys
I liked to play dolls and little parasols, yes it's true - how about you?
I'd dress those dollies up in their Sunday best, often it was all there was to do in the West
Then I'd lay them out head to toes in rows they'd repose
CHORUS:
Oh stack 'me up high, boys, straight up to the sky
Coins over their eyes, boys, oh I don't know why

Then I'd make a little sermon on the vanity of life and carry my dollies as Sissy played her fife
To a mossy sward or a corner of the yard where I'd inter them with myrrh
Then I'd mourn for my dollies in a funereal way - I'd dress in black and I'd never act gay
Until week's end when I'd say "Amen" and dig them up and do it all again
CHORUS

So I grew up to be a barber on the hill with a tonsorial parlor and a fancy window sill
But customers were crude, cowboys are rude - they don't stay still, no, they won't stay still
So I opened up a shop for ladies hair arranging but ladies were scarce and styles were always changing
So I combined the two, with an enterprising view - now perpetuity is my annuity
I'll beautify you with an eye to the hereafter
"Mold's Undertaking" reads the sign from my rafter
Trade is always high - there's a constant supply
So don't be appalled - eventually I'll be called
CHORUS

Just a wrinkle smoothed here and a pimple covered there
Bullet holes are extra - they want a special care
No matter what your end, I'll be your friend, as I drape you in crepe
Choir: As he drapes you in crepe
Though I'm by nature meek and mild - it's been said I could always coax a smile
Though worms await your corporeal fate, I'll do my best to send you out in style
Choir: He'll do his best to send you out in style
CHORUS


3. GOOD TIME GIRL
w&m by Phillip Michael Craver; ©℗ 2020 Sapsucker Publishing BMI

I'm not a hothouse flower, I'm not a cultured pearl
I never hurry, I never worry - I'm just a good time girl
I'm not a Little Bo Peep, minding her little sheep
Long comes a leopard, who needs a shepherd? I'm just a good time girl

Men come in all shapes and sizes, men come with all kinds of arms
Some wear capes and disguises to ward off my charms
But I never get discouraged, I never lose my curl
Others may stumble, I merely tumble - I'm just a good time girl

Some girls go for the caddies, some girls play under par
Girls like me make their daddies forget who they are
I'll kiss the band on Sunday, I'll never cause a stir
I'm not the type to, I'm who they pipe to - I'm just a good time girl


4. THE WAYWARD SISTER
w&m by Phillip Michael Craver; ©℗ 2020 Sapsucker Publishing BMI

I had a happy childhood, with Maw and Paw and Sis
Ours was the peaceful-Est of homes, filled with youth and bliss
Till Maw got sick one winter and wasted right away
The angels came and took her and all my hopes away
Twas then I turned to Sister to cheer me night and day
A bad dream or a blister, she'd kiss them all away
She was my sweetest pal, she was my pride and joy
But when she met that actor jerk, my heart broke like a toy

Now, when I had a bad dream I cried all night alone
And if I got a blister, Sis was always gone
To some dad-gum rehearsal, where actor jerks were mooning
While my unfaithful sister was paintin' sets and spoonin'
I vowed I never could forget, it's just the way I am
How could she throw me over for that god awful ham
And if our paths should ever cross and we should meet again
I swore I would disown her and plug that Thespian

Since then my life's been bitter, since then my life's been bleak
There's no one waiting for me to light the tiresome week
Now when I get a blister I pop it like a pea,
Because my blooming sister was just a tramp, you see


5. IT'S THE ACTOR'S LIFE FOR ME
w&m by Phillip Michael Craver; ©℗ 2020 Sapsucker Publishing BMI

The cheap boarding houses, the rotten tomaters
The whiskey-soaked barrooms that pass for theaters
The low-brow sodbusters, the drunken cowboys
The fried eggs & floozies, the flies and the noise
It's the actor's life for me ho ho
It's the actor's life for me ho ho
A year in the life of an actor is poor
It's rare that he darkens a theater door
Out of fifty two weeks he works only four
It's the actor's life for me

My costume is ragged, my love life is pitiful
My leading ladies are seldom hospitable
And Shakespeare don't make a box office profitable
It's the actor's life for me ho ho
It's the actor's life for me ho ho
And when I'm not struttin' and frettin' and cursin'
I spend all my time learning lines and rehearsin'
While free tickets at the stage door I'm dispersin'
It's the actor's life for me

A meager living your hard work will fetch up
Sufficient to keep you in greasepaint and ketchup
And when from long years on the stage you are wearied
You're lucky if you've got enough to get buried
It's the actors life for me ho ho
It's the actor's life for me ho ho
I could have been an Edwin Booth, you see
Or a Garrick, or a Kemble, or a Beerbohm Tree
I should have been anyone else but me
That's the actor's life you see

When I get to heaven I hope there're no actors
No limelights, no swordfights, no technical factors
No juveniles, no tenors, no bright ingénues
And God forbid anyone writing reviews
It's the actor's life for me ho ho
It's the actor's life for me ho ho
I've trod the boards through thick and thin
I'll be a trouper till the end
And gladly do it all over again
It's the actors life for me


6. THE BALLAD OF FANNIE MAE GARRETTSON
w&m by Phillip Michael Craver; ©℗ 2020 Sapsucker Publishing BMI

Your father was a gambler named Edward Shaughnessy
We fell in love in Cheyenne as happy as could
Then you came along and I found out Ed already had a wife
He left us at Christmas - I thought he'd ruined our life
I soon ran out of money and those mining towns were wild
And drunks don't have a lot of feeling for a woman with a hungry child
So I left you on a doorstep, with a note pinned to your sleeve:
"Take care of little Shaughnessy - any mother's better than me"

They say some soul took pity and took you to a better place
I never knew but I always hoped someday I'd see your face
And Ed came back in the meantime and tried to make things right
It was too late for you and I couldn't forgive or endure him for another night

For years I worked the circuit and I made my fortune there
I was always the gal in the headlines - I was sought after everywhere
So I brought my act to Deadwood and got up with Daniel Brown
But Ed had a jealous temper - he vowed to track me down
I saw him one night in the dance hall where Dan and me was billed
He threw something over the footlights with a look that meant to kill
Dan thought it was a pickax as it hit the stage with a whack
Dan drew his gun and fired two shots and Ed went cold and slack

It was nothing but love letters tied to a brick with a string
It was nothing but love letters and they never meant a thing
The jury said "Not Guilty" - Dan killed in self defense
So he married me and I thought I was free but I haven't been a moment since

Underneath this paint and satin, instead of a heart there's a hole
I can laugh and be light and merry, but I'm a woman without a soul
No matter where I wander, no matter how I try
I'm still standing on that doorstep, hearing my baby cry


7. SIMON PETER
new words by Phillip Michael Craver; ©℗ 2020 Sapsucker Publishing BMI; tune is public domain

Here's to Simon Peter, noble prairie dog
Loyal little rodent, monarch of the bog
Through the long night watches he would guard his kids
Clucking gently to them chewing katydids

FANNIE: So tell me, Bert, is there anybody special in your life?
BERT: Well, there's my horse. What about you?
FANNIE: Well, there's this feller in Dodge who's supposed to be waitin' for me,
but I hadn't heard from him in months, so to hell with him.

Grant to Simon Peter calm and sweet repose
With thy tend'rest blessing tweak his little nose
Grant to little critters visions bright of Thee
Guard the mice and bunnies and the chickadee

BERT: You wanna come up to my room and talk about it?
FANNIE: Why, Bert. Un-chaperoned in a gentleman's boudoir?
I'm not that kind of girl. You haven't even made me Queen yet.

Here's to Simon Peter as he makes his trog
Upward in to heaven - noble prairie dog


8. I AIN'T DEAD YET
w&m by Phillip Michael Craver; ©℗ 2020 Sapsucker Publishing BMI

I know I ought to contemplate my future - I know I ought to reconcile my past
I know I ought to wear hair shirts & suffer - but I'm allergic to wool
So why should I be downcast?
Because I ain't dead yet - I ain't dead yet
I got a lot of livin' to do -
So ring them bells, mademoiselles,
And don't forget 'cause I ain't dead yet

I'd like to meet you on that solemn morning but I am my own person come what may
So let me leave you with this little warning - I'm not about to hang up my dancin' shoes,
& call it a day

Because I ain't dead yet (HELP!)
I ain't dead yet (COME QUICK!)
I got a lot of livin' to do (HE'S ALIVE!)
So ring them bells, mademoiselles
And don't forget 'cause I ain't dead yet

I ain't dead yet - I ain't dead yet
I got a lot of lovin' to do -
So ring them bells, mademoiselles
And don't forget 'cause I ain't dead yet
And don't forget 'cause I ain't dead yet


9. A BELL JAR IN WASHINGTON SQUARE
w&m by Phillip Michael Craver; ©℗ 2020 Sapsucker Publishing BMI

I was born in the rarefied air of a bell jar in Washington Square
With blue forget-me-nots twined in my curly brown hair
I was sent to the finest schools, I was taught all the finest rules
But a distant voice kept calling to me from somewhere
Far away from that bell jar I knew in Washington Square

So I left my fine home and the rest, and I set out to conquer the West
Dreaming of all the grand adventures I'd have
I would follow the sun to the end, but I only got as far as South Bend
And Indiana's not the same as Montana - & so I despair
Far away from that bell jar I knew in Washington Square


10. I'LL GET YOU COMING & GOING
w&m by Phillip Michael Craver; ©℗ 2020 Sapsucker Publishing BMI

I could get you coming and going from the cradle to the grave
From the first 'goo goo' to the last 'boo hoo' if I live long enough for the rave
I could get you coming and going from the diaper to the suit
An apple a day till you're old and gray and there's further need of fruit
When you start to sink and your mind won't think
And you don't know the president's name
or the time or the place or your spouse's face
Or the age and the gender of the same

I could get you coming and going - it's just a simple matter of will
If you're hale and hearty and you love to party, then you'll prob'ly never have to take a pill
But if you're a hypochondriac - consider one stop shopping, it's a fact
I'm the man with the layaway plan to keep your can on track
And on that day of woe we'll leave 'em laughin' when you go
Don't linger at the door begging them for more
Lest they slam the damn thing on your toe

But if you're cheap you could die in your sleep, there'd be a lot less book to keep
But what will get you in the end is the coffin my friend
'Cause the prices can be incredibly steep
Consider burial at sea, if you're a sailor, it's free
Or crawl under a log like an old yeller dog who's marked his final tree

And if by chance I should make a mistake I could be my own coroner for heaven's sake
Like that time I told you that your appendicitis was just a little stomach ache
And I've a battery of methods for testing if you're dead or merely resting
One involves pins and blows to the shins to determine if you're positively jesting
Some insurance policy to scam, or maybe you're an irrepressible ham
Playing little jokes on the local folks, but it's over when the lid I slam -
I'll get you coming and going


11. WOMAN IN BLACK
w&m by Phillip Michael Craver; ©℗ 2020 Sapsucker Publishing BMI

There's something about a woman in black
I can't resist a widow's kiss, or a little kickback
I'm a man in the pink, and I'm up for the bet
I can think of three ways to get rich before breakfast
Without even breaking a sweat

But there's something about a woman in black
Makes you wanna rent a room down in the gloom by the railroad track
She could meet you there in the midnight hour
Or she could break her promise to this doubting Thomas
Who's under her power

There's something so alluring when black and pink's the scheme
Black's my favorite color except maybe for green

But I can play the game on the ole divan
I can talk real sweet on a satin sheet but I got me a plan
I'll either get her cheap or I'll take her hand
I don't exactly know how but I tell you now I'm gonna get her land

Yes there's something about a woman in black
But I'm wasting time on a foolish rhyme
I gotta get her tonight
I gotta get her tonight
I gotta get her tonight


12. I'M GOING TO JOIN THE FOREIGN LEGION
w&m by Phillip Michael Craver; ©℗ 2020 Sapsucker Publishing BMI

I'm going to join the Foreign Legion, I'm going to Cooch Behar
I've no idea where that is but it sounds like it's pretty far
I'm going to join the Foreign Legion though I can't speak French
I know a few words of Norwegian that should do in a pinch
Fancy me in Pondicherry down where the bong tree grows
I'll come back as brown as a berry - rings on my fingers, bells on my toes
He's going to join the Foreign Legion though I don't know how
Guess I'll fill out an application (you better do it now)

Fancy me in Pondicherry down where the bong tree grows
I'll come back as brown as a berry, rings on my fingers, bone through on my nose

He's going to join the Foreign Legion
Though I don't know why
I merely need a change of region
I need a chance to fly
He needs a chance to fly
We all need a chance to fly


13. THE BALLAD OF MYSTERIOUS DAVE MATHER
words by Phillip Michael Craver; ©℗ 2020 Sapsucker Publishing BMI; tune is public domain

I was born in Connecticut in 1842
A typical damn Yankee - I was a dullard too
I spent my childhood watching paint drying on the wall
And wrapping lots of string around my little ball

My twin brother Josh and I we never wanted much to roam
When we were 39 my old man made us both leave home
Sayin' "Get a job you dead beats, and don't come back again
Till you give me grandchildren, then I'll will take you in"

So Josh and I we packed our balls and string and all the rest
We set off for Kansas - it's what's known as the West
But nothin' there was drying - cowboys don't believe in paint
Or wrapping string around a ball or being what they ain't

We thought about shopkeepin' and soldierin' and farmin'
We thought about just loafin' but the wages was alarming
We looked at all the options and none of them was serious
We settled on gunslingin' and trying to be mysterious

Some say I'm a lyin' skunk - some say I ain't
Some say that I'm a murderer - some say I'm a saint
Some say I'm the vilest crook that ever robbed Ford County
Some say I am Canadian and used to be a Mountie

So I became mysterious and Josh remained a bore
No matter how he acted, no matter what he wore
He never took to guns - at heart he was a Yank
These days he lives in Rochester and works in a bank

So now you've heard my story, now you've heard my song
I'm really not mysterious you'll find out before long
It's just my way of hiding from all that's hot and hard
Including love and women - and working in the yard


14. FROM AUSTIN TO ABILENE
w&m by Phillip Michael Craver; ©℗ 2020 Sapsucker Publishing BMI

I was only seventeen when I got to Abilene
In a dress of painted poppies, one of many copies
But the world was on my string when I was seventeen

I was a hurdy gurdy gal, with my gunslingin' pal
We were buddies in the saddle, punchin' cattle
From Austin to Abilene, when I was seventeen

But me and Billy, we were gonna reap the wild wind
Ride them ponies to the end

Now I live by the wagon wheel in a dugout or a field
Or a rough board hotel room, smellin' of cheap perfume
From Austin to Abilene far from seventeen

But me and Billy, we're a-gonna reap the wild wind
Ride them ponies to the end


15. GOOD BYE BIG JIM
new words by Phillip Michael Craver; ©℗ 2020 Sapsucker Publishing BMI; tune is public domain

CHORUS:) Goodbye Big Jim, I'm a-leavin' Dead End
Goodbye Big Jim, I'm a-leavin' Dead End
I'm a-leavin' Dead End, goin' back to South Bend
Goodbye Big Jim, I'm a-leavin' Dead End

The last time I saw him he was green around the gills
He was grabbing his belly and headin' for the hills CHORUS

My foot's in the stirrup, my pony's in the clover
Big Jim's in the outhouse, somebody push it over
CHORUS, with last line repeated twice


16. MY HEART BELONGS IN ILLINOIS
w&m by Phillip Michael Craver; ©℗ 2020 Sapsucker Publishing BMI

I lost my heart it seems in Illinois
I had my finest dreams in Illinois
Listening to the lowing of the cattle in the dales
Eating cheese and crackers and hunting for morels
Oh how I wish I was in Peoria or Galena or Oneco or Leroy
I've been gone too long but I'll be back for a song
Because my heart belongs in Illinois

I lost my heart it seems in Illinoise
That place where girls are girls and men are boys
Hanging round the diamond in their flannel frockings
They've got a little ball team known as the "White Stockings"
I miss those bratwursts sizzling on a grill, the memory fills my heart with joy
I still recall that aroma though I'm stuck in Oklahoma
Because my heart belongs in Illinois


17. WHEN YOU SHUFFLE OFF THIS MORTAL COIL
w&m by Phillip Michael Craver; ©℗ 2020 Sapsucker Publishing BMI

The songs of birds at sunrise, spring flowers after rain
These are some of the sweetest things you'll never know again

When you shuffle off this mortal coil, nobody wants a body to spoil
So I recommend dry ice and a quantity of Persian spice
And if the air goes from bad to worse, I can ventilate the hearse
Or wrap your sorry carcass up in foil - when you shuffle off this mortal coil

When I lay you out for dead - I'll hang flypaper over your head
To keep your lips from fuzzing and the atmosphere from buzzing
On a particularly gruesome afternoon in the month of May or June
Lest the delicate sentiments of the mourners roil when you shuffle off this mortal coil
And if a fly should land on your nose in the midst of your sweet repose
And your eyes should blink and cross as we mourn your loss
There's no need to shriek or stammer for I carry a ball peen hammer
With which I'll re-dispatch you to that blessed state your relatives so lovingly await

Good whisky and wild women, the fellowship of men -
These are some of the sweetest things you'll never know again

I always wire the jawbone shut so it doesn't gape or jut
Or open in the dear one's head like there's something more to be said
I'm a wizard with powder and paint, I can make a sinner look like a saint
Or a goody goody two-shoes look like an old gargoyle when she shuffles off her mortal coil
And when across the Styx you've been ferried I hope to God that you stay buried
Lest the jackals dig you up - and upon your bones do sup
If you're concerned with your carnal being, you might consider fricasseeing
Or a turn in an urn on a shelf instead of the soil
When you shuffle off this mortal coil
When you shuffle off this mortal coil


18. ASENALOOGAH
w&m by Phillip Michael Craver; ©℗ 2020 Sapsucker Publishing BMI

My name's Asenalooga I grew up in the West
I've had my share of sorrow, good fortune and the rest
I've seen a million mornings, a thousand moons so bright
A wedding and a borning, a murder in the night
I've felt the battles raging, the storm clouds break above
I've watched the bison grazing, and couples making love
Before you think me foolish, before you think me free -
I'm not a Peeping Tom, you know, I'm just a cedar tree

I've borne the nests of robins, I've sheltered herds of cows
I've suffered little children climbing through my bows
And chilly scenes of winter and happy summer's charms
The saddest day was when a man was lynched upon my arms

And now I am a chest inside the finest house in town
I hold my master's sweaters, my lady's eiderdown
And I am warm in winter and I am cool in spring
This life has been a miracle, dare I regret a thing?
My name's Asenalooga, it means "dry underneath"
I take the barb wire through me, I make the Christmas wreath
If some say love is torture and life is misery
If some ask if it's worth it
Just have them look at me


19. ALAS I'M A POOR LITTLE WOODPECKER
w&m by Phillip Michael Craver; ©℗ 2020 Sapsucker Publishing BMI

Alas I'm a poor little woodpecker, I'm a poor little pecker of wood
I rat-a-tat-tat in the forest but I'd be a gamecock if I could
Someday I'll fly to the Gold Coast - it's a swell neighborhood
Till then I'll nurse these headaches I get from peckin' on wood

I rat-a-tat-tat in pine bark, I rat-a-tat-tat in sap
I'd like a mate who's featherweight and chicks to call me Pap
Or maybe some shares in a railroad or a copper mine or two
Then I wouldn't be peckin' my head off like some pileated fool

Peck peck peck peck pecka pecka peck peck
Peck peck peck peck pecka pecka peck peck
Peck peck peck peck pecka pecka peck peck
Peck peck pecka pecka peck
Peck peck peck peck pecka pecka peck peck
Peck peck peck peck pecka pecka peck peck
Peck peck pecka pecka peck peck pecka pecka
Peck peck peck peck peck

Alas I'm a poor little woodpecker, I've got a little leather jacket
I think I'll run for Congress and get paid for my racket
One day I'll fly to the capital, to the President's neighborhood
I'll rat-a-tat-tat on his old top hat instead of peckin' on wood
Some day he'll fly to the capital, to the President's neighborhood
And rat-a-tat-tat on his old top hat… instead of peckin' on wood


20. I'M A LITTLE MORE COMFORTABLE
w&m by Phillip Michael Craver; ©℗ 2020 Sapsucker Publishing BMI

I'm a little more comfortable with some folks after they're dead
And the storm has passed and they've been outclassed by death
And there's nothin' left to be said

There's a welcome lack of the usual tact when all you have to do is lay 'em out
You forget your position even with a politician though you'd like to cram an apple in his snout
Or cover him with tickets and sticky little wickets
Like there'd been a board game on his chest
And the pot he had lost at considerable cost so you add it to the bill in his vest

I'm a little more humanitarian when I finally get a chance at a face
I can take off that wen, or fix that chin with a pin and some putty and some lace
Or trim that beard so it don't look weird and those brows before they crawl away
And that nose like wax full of carpet tacks becomes a thing of beauty 'neath my sway

Voices: You're a strange sort of doctor. Something tells me you make people sick.
Mould: Well, they're usually past that point by the time I see 'em.
Voice: I bet most of 'em don't get any better at all.
Mould: So I've been told.

I'm a little more comfortable with some folks after they've passed
And they look their best, Sunday dressed, so full of peace at last
It's not that I spite them after their strife
It's the least one would do for a friend
Than to lavish them with a greater respect than they probably ever got till the end


21. FESTER IN THE WESTERN SUN
w&m by Phillip Michael Craver; ©℗ 2020 Sapsucker Publishing BMI

In the final analysis, my friends, what are we but a bunch of loose ends
Immigrants to the western plains in search of glory and the golden rain
But all we got was a little insane
To fester in the western sun
There's never any end to the fun
Fester in the western sun

We're the stuff of corncob pipes, dime novels and daguerreotypes
Just a pack of lies at the bitter end told by eastern newspapermen
Guaranteed to sucker all the homesteaders in
To fester in the western sun
There's never any end to the fun
To fester in the western sun

People want living legends, heroes of the Rockies' rim
Bat and Wyatt and Calamity Jane - say, I wonder what happened to them
Maybe they finally got lucky and finished out first in the race
Maybe they're livin' in a mansion in the sky or maybe in the other place
Fester in the western sun
There's never any end to the fun
Fester in the western sun

Tryin' to make a livin' out of rock & sand with no good deeds in a no man's land
Just grunts in the greasy hand of a railroad god
He dumped us like a load of cattle smack dab in a tarpaper town
With a Bible and a gun and a saddle and the wind was the only sound
So we lived by the old hardscrabble, by grit and by guff and by gall
And to say that our lives was wretched and lonely was to say most nothin' at all
Fester in the western sun
There's never any end to the fun
Fester in the western sun

You can pick your horses and your mates, your territories and your states
But you can't pick the things that matter most, like your maw and your paw
and your guts and your ghosts -
Well it looks like you got pot luck, and look what the pot got - us
Just a string of hams a little undercooked, four grade B shades that the devil overlooked
Just the only spooks who hadn't been booked
To fester in the western sun
There's never any end to the fun
Fester in the western sun
Fester in the western sun


22. THE GREAT CIMARRON CYCLONE
w&m by Phillip Michael Craver; ©℗ 2002 & 2020 Sapsucker Publishing BMI

It started as a wail way out west, headin' toward us and avoidin' all the rest
It blew out the windows and ripped off the door, a blindin' dust and a deafenin' roar
We was headed for the cellar when we realized the whole back porch was gettin' vaporized
So we grabbed our hats and we held on tight
Though the sky was fallin' on us just as black as night
It was the kind of fate that you didn't have the time to bemoan
Helpless in the path of the great Cimarron Cyclone

The wind was the worst, it picked up half the town
And took it for a spin and set it back down
I was thinkin' to myself "It's just a little zephyr"
When I got knocked down by a low flying heifer
Suddenly there wasn't any business that I couldn't postpone
Due to the appearance of the great Cimarron Cyclone

Then I looked up just in time to see the whole damn world comin' down on me
Just a troubled heart and a lousy hand buried in a shallow grave of Kansas sand

Well the rest of the town woke up the next day a little dried out but basically okay
They went to church as usual and then had lunch
Sayin' "Ain't it a pity 'bout that Cimarron bunch"
While we was in a state that could only be considered overblown
Due to the appearance of the great Cimarron Cyclone
All because of that great Cimarron Cyclone
All because of that great Cimarron Cyclone
All because of that great Cimarron Cyclone