It’s not so big a town and I know all of the locals Some come in to read newspapers some forget their bifocals Strangers find a home here - trust me I have seen all kinds 9:30 in the morning is when I start pouring pints The 9:30 pint it can set the morning right For the one who just got off after working all night It’s a stop along the way as he makes his journey home Before he pulls the curtains closed and disconnects the phone The 9:30 pint for whomever wanders in It’s not for me to wonder or ask where they might’ve been If they passed out in the bushes or if they caught a couple winks I don’t make it my business to know why they need a drink If you’ve been at it all night & you just have to have one more Or if you need a cup of coffee I’ll be happy to pour If you just need a place to sit to warm up or unwind I’ll be right over here pouring these 9:30 pints The 9:30 pint - perhaps to start a person’s day Who am I to judge? And who am I to say? If they leave here happier than when they first come in I’ll be here tomorrow morning should the punter call again The 9:30 pint is one I’m glad to pour I’m grateful for the business that comes in through the door So what’re you having sir? Now...what’s it gonna be? I can tell you’re not a local - are you from across the sea? So top of the morning to you - it’s another fine day I turn away no one - I have bills to pay See that pub across the street...the one up top the hill? If I don’t pour the early one - you can bet they will So before you rush to judgement & condemn a decent man Allow me to introduce myself & offer you my hand I’m just your friendly publican & you’re very welcome here I open at 9:30 - you don’t have to drink a beer

Hardly anybody goes to visit Leo All but forgotten except by a few I heard somebody speak so fondly of him Made me wish I knew him I got directions to the church yard I took a walk on up the hill That overlooks the Stan Rogers Folk Festival The year that I was on the bill It was in the local Lions Club Which was the backstage dining hall Saw a picture there of Leo Framed & hanging on a wall Such a good hearted fellow So say all the people I know who knew him It had to be someone who loved the man Whoever the artist was that drew him Leo in his uniform Pins & medals decorate his vest Rolled up shirtsleeves & a funny hat Tilted slightly to the west I figured maybe he was there To keep a watch over the place Smiling on everyone He had a real familiar face If you’re up in Canso, Nova Scotia It’s just a flat stone on the ground He lies just next to Lumsden You might have to look around It’s a simple little marker Two hands clasped in prayer I sat down beside it And said a little one there I’d only heard about Stan Rogers Now it was time to listen to him His songs brought back to life again By people I know who knew him And I thought about a campfire And the Texas morning light And that feeling that you leave with After being there all night So I’m saying farewell to Leo It was nearly a quarter ‘til... The Ballads of Stan Rogers I’d been enjoying from the hill “Stay for another song, son“ I thought I heard somebody say For one more song, and I had to smile... Before I walked away

The trees up here are all a sickly brown It’s not for lack of rain - it’s in the mist that creeps around Every night when most people are asleep It slinks across the valley - and into everything it seeps There’s a paper company - seven miles upwind I sit outside on a summer’s night - it irritates my skin I get a little dizzy - sometimes my lips go numb I wake up in the morning I can taste it on my tongue The paper company employs this whole damn town It’d wreck a lot of families if it ever were shut down The last city council meeting went to hell Neighbors turned on neighbors - people were starting to yell The river’s fish you cannot eat You don’t swim in the water - you don’t even dip your feet Downstream the people made a stink Fed up with being treated with a nod-nod & a wink-wink The local paper company burns my eyes Coming from their smokestacks - you can see the vapors rise Jobs...that’s all you need to say around here Babies’ll let you kiss them and a marching band appears...jobs... “No cause for concern,” say company personnel “We operate within the law,” they say about the sickly smell “I can personally guarantee they’d pass inspection” Says the paper candidate the company ran in the most recent election Paper company security - thanks me for my call They will file a report - as they’re required to by law Then they ask me for my name - and my address Why they’d want to know that - is anybody’s guess Paper company puts a burning in my nose I have to come in off my porch - pull all the windows closed Maybe I’m just a little too sensitive Maybe I ought to find myself another place to live Said the note I found tacked outside my door

For the kindness of strangers - I often give thanks Some have fed me and clothed me - some have filled up my tanks Some have taken me inside - of their humble abodes Given me sanctuary - on this G-ddamned Blessed Road It all fit in a backpack - with a sturdy metal frame My map had routes to everywhere - I highlighted some names I could’ve walked to China - I had that light a load Nearly weightless when I set out - on this G-ddamned Blessed Road I banded with some gypsies - they had a little camp A garbage fire to keep warm by - from the cold & from the damp They taught me about honor - and they handed down the code Which I have always tried to live by - on this G-ddamned Blessed Road Magic happens sometimes - and things will just appear Some gone in an instant - but their memories are dear My heart it gets heavy & my legs they get bowed Hauling all my riches away - on this G-ddamned Blessed Road The picture was in black & white - until color came one day It was almost as if right before my eyes - the truth it became grey Answers turned to questions - I put my faith in the unknown And I trusted it to lead me - along this G-ddamned Blessed Road Alot of good books have been written - you can read every one You can take notes and recite quotes as proof that you got your reading done So many interpretations of the words of The Ultimate Poet Who inspires me to write my own - on this G-ddamned Blessed Road The distance was far greater - sitting face to face at home Than it would have been from almost anywhere - if we’d been talking on the phone I told her that I loved her - with a lump in my throat Got in my car & drove away - down this G-ddamned Blessed Road Now the world is at your fingertips - all you have to do is choose Certain games you’ll still play anyway - even though the odds are that you’ll lose So call it an adventure then - just the latest episode Where you let yourself be tempted - on this G-ddamned Blessed Road Billboards tell you where to go - others tell you what to do So you’re left with having to decide for yourself - what might be right or wrong for you

Being from the outside they were met with some suspicion This couple from the city where they call themselves physicians When mountainfolk got hurt or sick they mostly went untreated They’d come to see the Doctor and his wife were sorely needed Word came in on horseback that somebody was sick “Doctor, get your saddle bags & come a’ riding quick” 15 - 20 miles, he’d follow them back home There was no electricity and no one had a phone No bridges crossed the river except where they laid rails There weren’t any roads back then & barely any trails That didn’t stop the doctor from the little mountain town In western North Carolina from going & making the rounds Doctor went a’ riding through the wind and through the rain If someone out there needed him, if someone was in pain He saved a few from dying but a few, they got away He delivered lots of children & he loved to watch them play Dr. bought an old junk dynamo that weighed more than a ton They hauled it home by wagon & the doc got it to run They moved it to the creek & from the house he ran a wire Flipped a switch & there was light & all the folks came to admire Now everybody was pestering the Doc to hook ‘em up But that old dynamo of his couldn’t put out juice enough He did some reading up on it while riding on his horse He figured maybe he could make it work by rewinding the core But they said you just can’t do it - GE told him so They wouldn’t sell him parts to rebuild his dynamo So he mail-ordered a forge and he made the parts himself And the Doctor brought electricity to everybody else Doctor’s wife assisted him - she was a doctor too When he didn’t need her there was other work to do She won people over - a little at a time With the miracles that happened while the Doctor went a’ riding Dr. Mary Martin Sloop taught the mountain folk to read Got folks to send their kids to school, which was no easy deed They soon outgrew the building - the little one room shack So it was added on to and soon they outgrew that Dr. Mary Martin Sloop started lobbying the state To build a brand new school where the kids could graduate She wrote a bunch of letters and she made a real good case She even went to Raleigh where she pleaded face to face The roads down from the mountains to the cities were so rough Farm wagons couldn’t make it to the markets with their stuff No way to make a living, no good route in or out On the east side of the Blue Ridge heading north or south Dr. Mary Martin Sloop again went to the state Got people writing letters & she met with the legislature She got a bill pushed through for 50 million dollars It wasn’t long ‘til they were trucking beans and taters from the hollers The little town of Crossnore saw the road & school get built The women learned to weave and make the most exquisite quilts Dr. Mary Martin Sloop had another thing to tell ‘em She found a shop in Raleigh that was sure that it could sell ‘em They sold all the quilts and rugs that these women could produce Money started coming in - they put it to good use Places where the wind got in they could afford to seal A little extra cornbread at the evening meal And so while Doctor went a’ riding - curing people’s ills Doctor’s wife stayed busy performing other miracles And to the town of Crossnore there came a better life Love and admiration for the Doctor and his wife

See where they’re putting in a Wal-Mart See how they level the field The community banded against it But there was a backroom deal Trees one day begin falling Bulldozers tear up the grass Just down the road from the superstore Shopkeepers are boarding up glass See where they’re gonna put that highway They’re talking about 8 lanes Running it right through a neighborhood Invoking eminent domain Trees one day begin falling Bulldozers clear away bricks A neighborhood is divided Alternative plans are nixed See where they’re gonna build a ballpark It’s a developer’s dream We give him $ 500 million Or else we might lose our team The money’ll come from the city We’ll vote on it until the day it passes All of our local schools Will have to do without music classes See where they’re putting in those mansions Clearing out a bunch of these woods Putting in a gated community Where security’ll be real good Trees one day begin falling To open up mountain views They put in a road to the waterfalls And now they charge admission to it Say you live out in the country Up a steep mountain side A holy little oasis Nothing but peace & quiet Trees one day begin falling Somebody’s moving in Building a house right on top of you He says he wants to be your friend Trees one day begin falling Bulldozers clearing a path For a really different future No brakes - just stepping on the gas

Claire, she loves Johnny And Johnny, he loves Claire Of all the places we could start It’s as good as any right there Johnny signed the order They took his lovely Claire They’re going to make her better But it was more than he could bear What other options were there? What else could Johnny do? She was the most beautiful woman That Johnny ever knew But Claire sometimes got ugly She had Johnny in a vice She could get so mean all of a sudden After being so nice Claire, she loves Johnny And Johnny, he loves Claire The way she was behaving Johnny, he got scared Sometimes it would be hours That she would sit & stare Some voice that wasn’t her’s would speak But she just wasn’t there Johnny felt so low down He needed cheering up He had to get out of the house So he headed for the pub That’s where we got to talking We had a pint or two He asked if I might write a song about it I said I’d see what I could do Claire, she loves Johnny And Johnny, he loves Claire Even with her cussing at him Lord, how she could swear Even with her throwing things Some that really hurt Even when she’d speak Those unspeakable words Claire is being cared for They keep her in a room Under medication Every day she’s groomed Sometimes she notices the flowers Among whatever else she sees And then she’ll turn to Johnny And ask, “Who brought me these?” Claire, she loves Johnny And Johnny, he loves Claire Although she may deny it Says what Johnny did wasn’t fair She tells Johnny she hates him He strokes her lovely hair Of all the places we could stop for now...

The room over the bar has a funny kind of smell Your feet stick to the carpet, what it is you can not tell The curtains, you can’t close ‘em and the toilet won’t stop running The lights they kind of flicker - there’s a banging in the plumbing The room over the bar - number 213 Not particularly large, not particularly clean It’s supposed to be a king bed but it’s not even a queen On a nightstand are some dusty & outdated magazines The room over the bar is the one without a view You can’t open up the window & there’s no light coming through There’s a great big concrete wall you can look at if you want The rooms that have a view - they’re all around the front The room over the bar is the one they give musicians It’s the one they haven’t fixed up ‘cause it’s only for musicians There’s at least a couple burn marks on almost everything You lie down in the bed & you feel each one of the springs The room over the bar you’ll find hairs on the sheet A broken down remote, and you can’t turn off the heat A towel small as a washcloth and a shower that just dribbles The tv with 3 channels on the ceiling, on a swivel The room over the bar - you hear everything below All sorts of filthy language - must be where all the cussers go Some words I never heard before - and some I haven’t heard since I’ve used a few myself - but one or two of ‘em made me wince The room over the bar has a guitar player below He’s got people singing - all the songs that people know The sound is all distorted & it’s turned up way too loud There’s some really awful singing going on there in the crowd The room over the bar - it’s never gonna close You’ve got to get up early - but that’s just the way it goes They quit serving at midnight but the last one leaves at four And then you toss & turn for a couple hours more

The sign says Forest Hills - it was recently defaced I guess there was a forest here - before they built this place With these cookie-cutter homes - with the lawns all manicured All the cars are waxed and polished - as are all the kitchen floors It’s a wholesome kind of place - that’s what they’d have you believe There’s a flag at every house - and a few overachieve We have a child prodigy - and a couple of folks do art And a little neighborhood baseball team that plays with lots of heart The letter to the editor - I read in last week’s paper Was written by that knucklehead - who used to be my neighbor Talk about intolerance - those people he calls heathens ‘Cause they don’t believe the same things - that this knucklehead believes in Now I know for a fact - a certain so & so reads porn A package sent to him once - was delivered to my door I didn’t hand it over - no, I kept it to myself If we should ever have a problem - well, it’s up there on the shelf There was a Pakistani family - that lived just down the block As soon as they’d replace the glass someone would throw a rock I don’t think it was children - though children can be cruel Whoever it was that did it - they broke the Golden Rule People read the Times - and they watch the tv news They receive it like the Gospel - they’ve all fallen for the ruse They all have their opinions - but none of them have clues There’s a patriotic silence - there are no dissenting views The school we have here couldn’t teach a monkey how to climb And Evie’s neighbor maintains - that to homeschool is a crime I think she’s a moron - I told Evie on the phone Tell her it’s none of her goddamned business - in the gentlest of tones They know him as the garbage man - but I know him as Anthony Their trash he turns to beauty - some could profit from it handsomely These little works of art - that he would sprinkle on their lawns Would end up in the trash again - as soon as people saw ‘em Katy burned some leaves - and that’s against the law The cop who showed up first said they had gotten 20 calls They wrote her a citation - but it just went up in smoke They put her in a squad car - it made for 20 happy folks And each 4th of July - it’s the same tin foil parade Waving from a flatbed - while a band behind them plays All of our local sponsors - and all the block captains too Party hats & streamers - all red, white, & blue But just below the varnish - and under the veneer Behind the smiling faces - and all of the good cheer You’ve got your petty jealousies - and all your different feuds Gossip and suspicions and people who are rude The sign says “Forest Hills - A Wholesome Kind Of Place” Now I’m not saying by whom - but it was recently defaced So let the credits roll - and you can use my song My guess is that for Hollywood - it’s a few seconds too long

Traffic would get backed up When the Goat Man came around And the tv cameras picked him up Some miles out of town In his tattered, sooty overalls And his greasy railroad cap Going no place in particular With a wagon full of scrap Ches McCartney was a farmer When the Depression hit He had some land in Iowa ‘Till the bank foreclosed on it So he took to cutting timber For the WPA ‘Till a mighty tall tree fell on him And crushed his arm one day They found him underneath it They thought he’d met his maker ‘Till he woke up in the funeral home And that shocked the undertaker The big tree left him crippled But he swore one thing for certain That he would never sign up for the dole He would never be a burden Some folks might’ve quit right then After all that had occurred But Ches still had his Bible And he still had his herd So he built a couple of wagons And he hitched ‘em to his goats And they all just set out walking Down the old two lane roads North they’d go in springtime South when it got cold The Goat Man kept on walking ‘Till he was 85 years old All through the Carolinas Virginia & DC Georgia & Alabama All across Tennessee It was every year, or just about That the Goat Man came around Camped a couple of nights in somebody’s field On the outskirts of a town The people would flock to see him Afraid there was a fire ‘Cause he made a lot of black smoke Burning little scraps of tires Yeah, the people would flock to see him And then he’d have ‘em collared Sell ‘em postcards for a quarter 3 of ‘em for a dollar You’d laugh about it later Down the road a couple miles How he took you for a quarter But he left you with a smile The Goat Man preached the Gospel But he changed a couple of words He was the cussingest preacher Anybody’d ever heard And if you needed preaching Come Sunday 4 o’clock The Goat Man gave a sermon Whether anybody was there or not The things most people slave for The Goat Man he rejected It was for the good of others All the money he collected He didn’t have much use for it Himself, he used to say He walked a hundred thousand miles Giving all of it away The Goat Man had a bushy beard With bits of food stuck to it If you had some fat to chew He’d sit with you and chew it He didn’t bathe for all those years You wouldn’t just not notice You might even catch a whiff of it Looking at some old Goat Man photos Now the Goat Man had a favorite goat It’s name it was Old Bill For 30 years they walked together Up & down the hills Old Bill got to stop pulling He earned his right to ride His last days in the wagon While the Goat Man walked beside him The roads all got too crowded And the cars all got too fast The Goat Man parked his wagon And he put his goats to pasture It was somewhere down near Macon In a nursing home Where he found himself a sweetheart They say he might’ve worn cologne

There’s terror in our midst They could be one of us Behind you in the line Beside you on the bus Wearing camouflage They might be wearing suits The terrorists among us Might be wearing army boots These are dangerous times People are afraid No looking back at history To see how enemies were made Some dictators are bad Some dictators are good That’s a hard one to explain But I wish somebody would So let us all agree Let us not dissent Let us not ask questions such as Where our freedoms went We’ll just fly fly the flag Sing G-d Bless America Question people’s patriotism Who don’t join in the hysteria These are dangerous times And so we lose our rights While these terrorists among us Do their dirty work at night There isn’t time to read The contents of the bills That Congress votes for anyway Up there on The Hill There’s terror in our midst It wears the good disguise Fools a lot of people They seem like such regular guys Rewriting all the rules You don’t have any say In fact they even count on you To look the other way There’s terror in our midst All over the tv It’s what’s behind the words That scares the daylights out of me The twisting of the facts The stretching of the truth The terrorists among us They manipulate the news So let us all agree Let us not dissent Let us not ask questions such as Where our freedoms went We’re going to build them schools We’re going to build them banks We’re going to build them pipelines From their fields to our tanks My heart goes out to Johnny Sent off into war They convince him it’s for freedom That he’d lay his life down for My thoughts are often with him I pray he comes home safe And I pray for every innocent Laid early in the grave These are dangerous times You might be overheard Using one of whatever they’ve defined As being a dangerous word What if they don’t like your songs? What if they don’t like your books? What if you fit a profile Based solely on your looks? They listen to us talk They read the things we write They watch us all on cameras They know where you were last night They know where you stopped for gas Which magazines you bought Back in 1984 This was all just crazy talk So let us all agree Let us not dissent Let us not ask questions such as Where our freedoms went Let’s have a look inside those pockets Let’s have a look inside that purse Let’s have a look inside that glove box Or someplace maybe worse And who was in your house While you weren’t home And looked in your computer And through everything you own? What did they want to know? Which websites do you visit? What have you learned about them? They want to know - what is it? So let us all agree Let us not dissent Let us not ask questions such as Where our freedoms went We’ll just fly fly the flag Sing G-d Bless America Question people’s patriotism Who don’t join in the hysteria

Welcome Home, Al, said the sign at the gate I got there early, Al got there late Together we entered and greeted our mates Al - he was back in Texas Al’s ashes & me, we’ve been for a drive To places he loved while he was alive Back at the ranch, on the day we arrived We saw almost all of his favorite people Al’s ashes & me, been making the rounds Out in the country & into the towns Trying to find some higher ground... Al’s ashes & me, we sleep in motels Where we have to be out by 11 or 12 Al could do better describing the smells ‘Cause Al, you see, he was a poet I get the bed & Al gets the floor My jeans in a pile over by the door There’s always a bible in one of the drawers... And a remote control for the tv Now I might appear to be eating alone A table for two, I sit on my own But looks are deceiving, the truth it be known Alone but for the roses Al’s ashes & me had a brush with the law At the airport the metal detector went off I emptied my pockets, & the first thing they saw Was Al, and I had to do some explaining Al’s ashes & me on the Donegal shore We walked in the sand and the ocean roared Him in my pocket, me trying to keep warm In my coat, but Al had a red bandana Al’s ashes & me, we sat in a pub Cobblestone Bar, in Smithfield part of Dublin Al on the wagon, me raising my cup “To Al,” I says to the barman I introduce Al to some of my friends Not all the time just every now & again I guess you could say that it really depends On how it feels at the moment Al’s ashes & me, we wish you were here We’d show you the sights & bring you good cheer We’re hoping to see you later this year Lord willing…