Book of Blues Read Free Page B

how
    I fee-eel!
    That’s how
    I feel—
    What a deal!
    Yes I’m goin ho
    o
    ome
39TH CHORUS
    Yes I’m goin
    on
    home
    today
    Tonight I’ll be ridin
    The 80 mile Zipper
    And flyin down the Coast
    Wrapt in a blanket
    Cryin
    And cold
    So brother
    Pour me a drink
    I got lots of friends
    From coast to coast
    And ocean to ocean
    girls
    But when I see
    A bottle a wine
    And see that it’s full
    I like to open it
    And take of it my fill
40TH CHORUS
    And when my head gets dizzy
    And friends all laugh
    And money pours
    from my pocket
    And gold from my ears
    And silver flies out
    and rubies explode
    I’ll up & eat
    And sing another song
    And drop another grape
    In my belly down
    Cause you know
    What Omar Khayyam said
    Better be happy
    With the happy grape
    As make long faces
    And groan all night
    In search of fruit
    That dont exist
41ST CHORUS
    So Mister Engineer
    And Mister Hoghead
    Conductor Jones
    And you head brakeman
    And you, tagman
    on this run
    Give me a hiball
    Boomer’s or any kind
    Start that Diesel
    All 3 Units
    Less roll on down that rail
    See Kansas City by dawn
    Or grass of Amarilla
    Or rooftops of Old New York
    Or banksides green with grass
    In April
    Anywhere
42ND CHORUS
    I’d better be a poet
    Or lay down dead.
    Little boys are angels
    Crying in the street
    Wear funny hats
    Wait for green lights
    Carry bust out tubes
    Around their necks
    And roam the railyards
    Of the great cities
    Looking for locomotives
    Full of shit
    Run down to the waterfront
    And dream of Cathay
    Hook spars with Gulls
    Of athavoid thought.
43RD CHORUS
    Little Cody Deaver
    A San Francisco boy
    Hung by hair of heroes
    Growing green & thin
    And soft as sin
    From the tie piles
    Of the railer road
    Track where Tokay
    Bottles rust in dust
    Waiting for the term
    Of partiality
    To end up there
    In heaven high
    So’s loco can
    Come home
    Con poco coco.
44TH CHORUS
    Little heroes of the dead
    Found a nickle instead
    And bought a Borden half & half
    Orange Sherbert & vanil milk
    Trod the pavements
    Of unfall Frisco
    Waiting for its earthquake
    To waver houses men
    And streets to spindle
    Drift to fall at Third
    Street Number 6–15
    Where Bank now stands
    Jack London was born
    And saw gray rigging
    At the ‘barcadero
    Pier, His bier
    commemorated in marble
    To advertise the stone
    Of vaults where money rots.
45TH CHORUS
    Inquisitive plaidshirt
    Pops look at trucks
    In the afternoon
    While Mulligan’s
    Stewing on the stove
    And Calico spreads
    Her milk & creamy legs
    For advertising salesman
    Passing thru from Largo
    Oregon where water
    Runs the Willamette down
    By blasted to-the-North
    Volcanic ashes seft.
46TH CHORUS
    Babies born screaming
    in this town
    Are miserable examples
    of what happens
    Everywhere.
    Bein Crazy is
    The least of my worries.
    Now the sun’s goin down
    In old San Fran
    The hills are in a haze
    Of Shroudy afternoon—
    Bent withered Burroughsian
    Greeks pass
    In gray felt hats
    Expensively pearly
    On bony suffer heads
47TH CHORUS
    And old Indian bo’s
    With no stockings on
    Just Chinese Shuffle
    Opium shoes
    Take the snaily constitutional
    Down 3rd St gray & lost
    & Hard to see.
    Tragic burpers
    With scars of snow
    Bound bigly
    Huge to find it
    To the train
    Of time & pain
    Waiting at the terminal.
    Young punk mankind
    Three abreast
    Go thriving downwards
    In the hellish street.
48TH CHORUS
    Red shoes of the limpin whore
    Who drags her blues
    From shore to shore
    Along the stores
    Lookin for a millioinaire
    For her time’s up
    And she got no guts
    And the man aint comin
    And I’m no where.
    He aint done nothin
    But change hats
    And go to work
    And light a new cigar
    And stands in doorway
    Swingin the 8 inch
    Stogie all around
    Arc ing to see
    Mankind’s vast
49TH CHORUS
    Sea restless crown
    Come rolling bit by bit
    From offices of gloom
    To homes of mortuary
    Hidden Television
    Behind the horse’s
    Clock in Hopalong
    The Burper’s bestfriend
    Ten gat