Friday, November 28, 2014

Old Country Prison Work Death Song (aka The Existential Hoedown)

by G. Jack Urso
 


the sun goes up, the sun goes down

every day it goes ’round and ‘round

babies born, old folks die

and by the grace of God will thee and i


every day i work like a dog

eat like a hog and sleep like a log

nickels and dimes for food and gas

a rusty old car and debt up to my ass



well, a good ol’ boy shook my hand
Margaret Bourke-White,
Life magazine 1937

asked for my vote as a working man

said he had no time for those who take

and give not a bit back to the state


i got no control over my fate

but i don’t mind sharin’ a bit off my plate

cause when your well runs dry

and your luck’s at an end

you’ll be the first in line to call me friend


the sun goes up, the sun goes down

every day it goes ’round and ‘round

babies born, old folks die

and by the grace of God soon so will i



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