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There's a pine log shack in the mountains. That's where my Corey dwells.
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She makes the finest mash liquor. What she doesn't drink she sells.
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Well, the first time I seen darlin' Corey she was weavin' through the woods
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With a kerosene lantern on her shoulder and a satchel full of goods.
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Please do drop down next Monday. Please bring me a jug or five.
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When the sun comes up on Tuesday don't figure to be alive.
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Don't care if you are livin'. Don't care if you are dead.
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If you're gonna drink my product then I'm gonna take your bread. (Frail, pardner)
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Well, the last time I seen darlin' Corey, she was wand'rin' through the weeds
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With a government man behind her. Gonna grab her for her deeds.
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Wake up, wake up, darlin' Corey. What makes you sleep so sound? The revenue officer's a comin', gonna tear your still house down.
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-----
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CORTELIA CLARK
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Mickey Newbury
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I was just a boy the year the Blue Bird Special came through hereon its first run South to New Orleans.
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A blind old man and I, we came to Guthrie just to see the train. He was black and I was green.
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"Tell me what you see," said he. "Is the engine black or red, son? That's the loudest thing I've ever seen."
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Then he picked his guitar up and sat on the fender of a truck. Then his eyes lit up as he begin to sing.
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I remember when that old man's dreams were chained to a depot down in Guthrie and a Blue Bird Special train
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Then he picked his guitar up and shuffled down the walk to the cars of town wound 'round the building at his feet
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Looking mighty proud, that old man, with his battered hat in his hand. Lord, he sang a song that made me weep.
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Yes, he made me weep.
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I read it in a week-old paper. No one made it for his death or even lay a flower at his feet.
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He was just a blind old beggar. He was sad, but, Lord, I'll wager he won't beg for nothing on his street.
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You will find him, Lord, this morning. He'll be stepping from your door.
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Can you save a street in glory for Cortelia Clark?
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'Cause I was just a boy the week the Blue Bird Special came through here on its first run South to New Orleans.
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A blind old man and I, we came to Guthrie just to see the train. He was black and was I green.
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COREY, COREY
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| Jack Splittard |
