cheech

Nashville Casualty and Life

In faded gaberdine he used to stand
down by the union station with that old hat in his hand.
A banjo-pickin devil, a singin rag-time saint;
the young folks called him beautiful, the old folks called him quaint.

and the station-master pointed to the sign,
and they busted him for loitering when he was makin memories rhyme...
Out in the falling snow hed sing his song
to a world too cold to listen
and too white to sing along...

Just a Nashville casualty and life
done left him without a dime,
ever since the good lord took his wife...
Youll find him strummin on the corner all the time,
and most of music city never saw
the world within the song
of a Nashville casualty...
and life... goes on.

In the attic sits a dusty hat and cane
and the kids they found a banjo there,
all rusted from the rain.
I strummed a little rusty rag-time beat, and I sang for every soul out on the street.

I could almost see him standin in the rain;
his black and blinded face reflecting all the pain
of all the years and people passin by,
and all the ringin memories that can make a banjo cry.

Just a Nashville casualty and life;
its a riff thats hell to play.
You sings for your livin in the street,
and you sleeps in the back of some caf...
and most of music city never sees the world within the song
of a Nashville casualty,
and life... goes on.

--Kinky Friedman