Copyright © 2004 Jack Hardy Music
George was not sleeping with Martha On the day the first coin of the realm changed hands For the founding fathers had faltered In the years after they had been to France How it turned their heads you see Away from tea and tranquility And that silver six and three And the portrait that pleased his majesty On the coin of the realm What George held in his hand that night Was a brand new face of liberty With flowing hair and a winsome smile And a wildness that abandon somehow sets free Not the Marthas or the Abigails With their tight and labored buns and braids But a thousand fantasies set sail By the wanton women of the barricades On the coin of the realm chorus: The myth stands firm As firm as young breasts And the eagle's return Safe in their endangeredness In God we trust all the rest In the coin of the realm And George he did not sleep too well that night With a thousand campfires he could not see Of those who took the liberty to fight Some fine feathered friends who had become the enemy And George who had fought to free the slaves Could not make the jump to free himself By taking seriously those braves With their beaten drums and beaded belts On the coin of the realm Ah but business is in the habit of making strange bedfellows Consider Sitting Bull and Buffalo Bill And how the ancient treaties had yellowed In the golden glow of the Black Hills And the noble savage is no more Decimated by disease and war And the beautiful bison that played the plains Are now engraved and deeply engrained In the coin of the realm
When Cain slew Abel it was not about the money Somewhere east of Eden no one stayed his hand When Cain slew Abel in the land of milk and honey Somewhere near Damascus he had to make a stand When Cain slew Abel, Abel was just another shepherd Who watched his flocks by night above the fields his brother tilled When Cain slew Abel in the shadow of the Cherubim A flaming sword is just no matter who it kills chorus: What kind of god would lead you from the wilderness Then abandon you on these city streets What kind of god would have you kill your brother While handing you a victory of pity and deceit When Cain slew Abel he slew the first of all the martyrs A list that has not ended even 'til last night When Cain slew Abel he slew the first of all the heretics Who returned to the garden to find the tree of life When Cain slew Abel, the ground Cain tilled was barren His offering rejected, he had to set things right When Cain slew Abel he was not his brother's keeper His parents were evicted, he just had to start a fight
It's hard to rattle your saber When you're in bed with the enemy Everyone tattling up favors And kissing you just like it's Gethsemane All the oil men drooling Over what might happen Lying in their beds Of cool white satin Following the money Bailing over the rainbow To any port- Folio in a storm chorus: You're in bed with the enemy Your Enron World COM dot COM bubble burst You banged up this Barbie in a whole lotta trouble Said, "Your money's on the dresser and I'm done with you." But she's not moving out, she's in love with you You're in bed with the enemy You almost washed up in Florida Got caught in the rigging of the little black holes Was it Gonzales or Batista They all look the same when you pander to the polls Got the whole world focused On a misplaced cigar So that no one noticed Hands in the cookie jar Got your brother workin' mojo With his Midas touch So why you think your daughters Drink so much Maine is a long way from Texas Where your daddy drove his Studebaker car Trading domicile for physical nexus While you in the frat house playin' air-guitar Now you want to go to war With cool coward's vengeance Get their minds off elections And their bottomed out pensions Your blue blood boiling With cowboy condescension But you forget we've seen Chicken-hawks before
By the time the Greyhound pulled into Boston The rain had turned to snow By the time I got no answer I had nowhere left to go I stumbled down the alleyways Led by the fates alone It was then I stumbled on a café Called " The Sword in the Stone" She was writing in the corner A candle and empty chair With freckles from 'cross the ocean And strawberry blond hair She said, "I am the Lady of the Lake Though frozen that lake might be And I can't help a knight who undertakes A quest chosen by lottery." chorus: Outside the wind was blowing The snow against the hour Outside the armies in motion And the poets had lost their power Took all the magic of Merlin And the Lady of the Lake To put the sword back in the stone In nineteen sixty-eight I said, " I had a brother I have a brother no more Of all things rent asunder By this dirty little war. A rabbit chased by greyhounds From here to distant shores I find I am finally brought to bay In this land of the troubadours." I said, "The candle frames your beauty." She blew that candle out She said, "Don't be doing anything If you do it out of doubt." And with freckles from 'cross the ocean And strawberry blond hair She led me upstairs and showed me Why I could not go over there
I will never cast the very first stone Like all the other bastards who will not own That they did what they did, what they had to do Furthermore I will never blame it on you Ex-presidents are like ex-wives They all never mess with other peoples' lives They all did not have sex with that person And if you believe them then you deserve them chorus: Footsteps have unnerving sound As they pound their way down the street What urgency is close behind In dark, in haste, in love, in kind, denial Blame it on the moon, blame it on the devil Blame it on the soon to be labeled infidels Revealed and regressed concealed and confessed Crusader of conundrums religiously obsessed For the sake of the children, for the sake of the country For the sake of tradition, for the sake of the diocese I'm afraid we have to cut the questions short Now we're at war, now we're at court I will not cast my line out to sea Somehow the tide belies chastity But the women 'round the cross were a motley crew And furthermore Jesus never blamed it on you The tide rips and it rides, it floods and it dies It leaves a lot of blood on young girls' thighs Seventy-four virgins ain't my idea of heaven I died and went to college in nineteen sixty-seven I will not cast you in the roll of Madonna Mother of perfect children with a gin and tonic Playin' it to the hilt, innocence and guilt Playing Whistler's mother in a patchwork quilt I will not cast you in stone or in fire Only in the shadow of one man's desire Meet me at the well and not where you live And stop trying to hold love in a sieve I was the thousandth ship that you launched You a cocktail waitress in a honky-tonk But the waitress giveth and the waitress taketh away And leaves you the bill with the devil to pay Ours is not to reason why Ours is but to do or die But the man in the cowboy hat and the monkey-suit Was DWI swerving from the truth
You never look so beautiful As when you're in love Even if you're not in love with me The whiteness of your breast The way your yellow flowered dress Clings to you The way I do I thought perhaps this time We could just start over That we could find a friendship to our love But that was my mistake I let the moment last too late And you were then in love And then again in love And now the years have gone and piled up The cherry trees have bloomed Along the river bank with no blanket The cathedral bells are peeling But their steps are only reasons To remember you To remember you You always loved your men to distraction And one to death But it only is the season that is dying And you have to be so careful Who you drink your bloody wine with And who you love each time And who you love this time You never look so beautiful As when you're in love
When the train rolls through town The rumble sets the walls shaking When the train rolls through town Sets picture frames askew And the veterans at the bar Have to raise their voices to be heard And last years Christmas star Has gone the way of the nickel draft beer When the train rolls through town Letters missing on the movie marquee And the soldiers at the five-and-dime Are lost in a black-and-white newsreel And the power of grinding wheels Kick the dust and cinders flying Crying whistles squeal Red lights flashing warning signs clear When the train rolls through town The old men lose their concentration And the checkers are sent a-flying They forget the double jump backwards And the barbershop is closed Yellow newsprint screaming headlines "Will open in the spring, God willing" or so the sign says When the train rolls through town You don't know what it is carrying Came somewhere from the south Going back to where it came from There used to be whistle-stop tours Glad handling through the motions But it don't carry people now Or stop in this old river town no more
Lain down on a bed of straw
Lain down in a farmer's troth
Lain down in mystery
And adoration of the magi
Jesus was a poor man
I am a poor man too
Ain't no end of telling
What a poor man might do
Who could find a reason
To question his mean estate
Or protest his treason
To alter what decreed his fate
Jesus was a poor man
I am a poor man too
Ain't no end of telling
What a poor man might do
Harder for a camel
Through the eye of a needle
Harder still for a rich man
To enter in to heaven
Jesus was a poor man
I am a poor man too
Ain't no end of telling
What a poor man might do
Jesus was a carpenter
I like to think he built this house
Quiet as surrender
Quiet as the church mouse
Jesus was a poor man
I am a poor man too
Ain't no end of telling
What a poor man might do
Might build some houses
Might share his blanket's warmth
Might still some lingering doubts
With his strength against the storm
Jesus was a poor man
I am a poor man too
Ain't no end of telling
What a poor man might do
Lay down your rusted sword
It will not bring you pleasure
Where your anger is stored
There will lie your treasure
Lay it down on a bed of straw
Lay it down in a farmer's troth
Lay it down in mystery
And the adoration of the magi
Pray for me, she said On the second of November Pray for me, she said On this day of the dead And count the bells That will toll for his soul And count the bells That are real Whom do they toll for The roll-call the back door They toll for you A box in the desert abandoned They suffocate, he ran for it Call for the searchlight The crack of the rifle He's falling down There is no sound in the desert Pray for me, she said For I am amongst the living Pray for me, she said You who have no soul And the bells they say There's no fire in your loins And the bells they say You're not a man You who are sending The men to hunt them In the desert Hunt he who was honest And humble who only had hope To send a few dollars home To his wife and his children He who wished only to sweep And sleep on your floor Pray for me, she said And I will pray for you Pray for me, she said You who will not change And count the bells That are hollow and void The vows you pound Sound only on your lips You who have lost so many So sudden so silent You who have no day to mourn For the dead from the violence You who are baffled Why anyone would be wanting To hurt you Who look 'cross your borders With eyes filled only with greed Pray for me, she said
Damn bottle comin' back to me Message on the open sea Self-inflicted piracy A mate is going down Wind and white-caps, close shave Coin tossed on every wave Barrel-chested hard to save And fate makes not a sound chorus: Ay-ee show your hand Gonna miss that burly man Ay-ee closing time Could have fooled me one more time Crap-shooters every kind Bar bills hard to find Jazzband blowin' blind It's a shame he's not around Buried treasure in smoky rooms Communists and spittoons Irish whiskey voice booms Dave is back in town!
Holy ground, what has made it holy? Not the sound of blood spilled to hold it Not the crimes of those who bought and sold it Nor the signs of religions that are loaded Holy ground, what has made it holy? Not the bound books or the scrolls That claim to be the one and only true text To guide us through this world and the next Holy ground, what has made it holy? Not the bound prisoners and refugees Not the sound of all their lamentations Found in red tape and humiliation Holy ground, what has made it holy? Not the crowns of imperial majesty Not the thorns of any human sacrifice Nor any form of eternal paradise Holy ground, what has made it holy? No crescent moon or bright morning star No crusade of sword or scimitar Nor any wise men come from afar Holy ground, what has made it holy? No precious oils, gold or frankincense Take this sword, if you still insist, Divide the child, said Solomon in his wisdom