The Old​-​Timey AfroPop Jibberish Junction

by Dirty Bourbon River Show

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls / Locals and folks from around the world / Welcome to the Old-Timey AfroPop Jibberish Junction
She cries like an old wooden casket / But she sings like a new shiny harp / She puts all her eggs in one basket / And then she walks alone in the dark / Mary Fairweather sits in her tree / Watching the angels go by / They hear her ever so faintly when she sings / And then they wake up when she cries / She moves like a whiskey-soaked flag / Drowning the wind with her sighs / Moving her lips like a game of tag / They never look into her eyes / She knows that she's going to have to get out / Get up, get out of that town / Close your eyes and hope that this time / Will be when your feet touch the ground / Mary Fairweather jump from that tree / Don't let the world pass you by / Let them all hear when you sing / And they will be the ones that cry
Goodbye my brother, now that you’re gone / The places we’ve seen and the crowns that we’ve won / Goodbye my brother, I hate to see you go / But this is the way that you know / He was a good ole gun-slingin’ Texan / Spitting fire, feet stompin’ in his exit / That time ago feels like a dream / Why is it that all the good ones leave? / I wish that there was something I could say / But I don’t know fuck about shit anyway / I crossed the storm with you next to me / And for that this song I shall sing
Are you ready? One… Two…
I am the king of the world / I am the king of the world / Oh baby, here I am / I swing from tree to tree / Like the man on the flying trapeze / Because I am king
I said: “I’m going down to the crossroads,” gonna fall right down on my knees / I said: “I’m going down to the crossroads,” gonna fall right down on my knees / I asked the good Lord above: “Have mercy on me if you please” / I said: “I’m going down to the crossroads,” gonna see if I can flag myself a ride / I said: “I’m going down to the crossroads,” gonna see if I can flag myself a ride / Well, if you won’t take me baby, I’ll find somebody else in town / I said: “I’m going down to New Orleans,” be there before Mardi Gras Day / I said: “I’m going down to New Orleans,” be there before Mardi Gras Day / I got the blues this morning, looking for that ya-ya fee na nay / You can run, you can run, you can run and go and tell boy, Willy Brown / You can run, you can run, you can run and go and tell boy, Willy Brown / You tell him: “I’m down at the crossroads,” feel like I’m sinking down
I know what you did last Sunday down by the riverside. Your hands trembled as you carried the crying basket to the riverbed. / And it was no voice other than your own that said: “Close your eyes, and cast your precious little child into these waters. They will deliver him into a better life.” / And you obeyed. You were not sick or without will, but you obeyed this voice. / I know what you plan to do now that you are without a child. You will continue selling yourself, cheating, stealing, and lying. I know now this is the life you have chosen, and so I will not try to stop you. / You will do what you will to do. / But one day you will close your eyes and think about a life that you could have had. / And you will never know him. / … / You are lucky that he is alive. The current was fast, and if not for the good fisherman who spotted the basket, the boy who was once your child would have eventually been swallowed by the torrent of water. / The boy is now in the care of the fisherman’s family. They have come to love him as if he was their own, and he has become their child now. / Today he plays by the river, not fifteen miles south of your wicked abandonment, unaware you ever existed. / And he will live a better life. A life you will never touch, or see or feel again. A life you may now only imagine. / For you will never know him.
We got a lazy lullaby rabbit duck clock / We got 17 plants on a table in the living room / We got a pregnant lady on a bicycle / We got a Korean man in a bathtub / We got a Mexican with a pitchfork / We got 12 lazy drummers in a paper mill / We got a paper mill hiding in a pine comb / We got moonshine that’ll tickle your eyeballs / We got glass eyes, pigeon feet, knee boots, and paper clips / We got moss, mold, candy, apples, and a flashlight fish / We got a cactus with a table saw and a missing tooth / We got it all baby, we got it all / … / The first pair of pants I bought in New Orleans were funeral pants / Musical pocket watch tucked high in my vest / I walk, feet dragging to the right, and to the left (and to the right, and to the left) / I eat a hipster for breakfast, then a bicycle for lunch / Maybe one day I will eat an airplane, but synthetic meats just aren't for me / I like hog salt, alligator sausage and cracklins with Creole mustard / Whipping sauce from my mouth as I watch her write songs / For him writing songs / Songs for those capable of honesty and a simultaneous, sinful smile / Yessir, beguiled I do say / It was the strangest of ways, on the strangest of days / Until the chips and obstruent colors neared their end then handed the reigns Back to the pup-eyes, snowballs, sweet green grass / To which lane shall I walk on? / Fuck them both then back to grey? / Caught in your smile once again, how can I (how can I?) / I just don't (just don't) just don’t know / Hmm / The man with the funny coat / Funny coat man, this shit is wild /Anamorphic prison bay / Mary had a little tiger / And let the tiger put martinis in her soul / Unfold / Tucked inside your everything / Unfold
I'm tired of you sissies and I'm tired of you trepid, tight-jean, 25-year-old teenagers, and you penis-nose, perfect-hair, polka-dot posers plotting silly shenanigans to promote in your uncle Gordy’s velvet lampshade all ages basement. Man, that shit is not cool. Your consortium of sweater f-a-tree, it’s not really working. Please stop blocking the road. Charlie, what are you tired of? / I'm tired of you complaining just because it’s three o’clock in the morning, I'm a little drunk, and I smell like dolphins. How do you even know that I smell like dolphins? And why are you always complaining just because I don't call you back within five minutes of your 84 missed calls. I was busy, my phone was off, and I was with a tiger. I love animals. Me and you used to feed the penguins Cheetos all the time back in the day. What happened? I’m going to sing now… / No, I won’t sing along / To your silly fxxking song / I’m tired of being stuck. It’s time to break out and build something. Ditch the straight paths, crossed eyes, and closed minds. And the crazy, weird women. And the tom-drum-rim clickers. I’m tired of not having any money. And I’m tired of paying the goddamn bills, didn’t we just pay it last week? And I’m tired of calling my goddamn probation officer. / Aww, what else can you do though, man? Shit…


The Old-Timey AfroPop Jibberish Junction is:
Noah Adams - Vocals, Piano, Guitar, Harmonica
Big Charlie - Vocals
Jimmy Williams - Bass
Bootsy - Drums
Wayne Mitchell - Tenor Saxophone
Matt Thomas - Baritone Saxophone


released November 11, 2011

Songs 1-5 & 7-9 Written by Noah Adams
Song 6 Written by Charles Skinner & Robert Johnson
Recorded & Mixed by Noah Adams
Mastered by Bhob Rainey


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Dirty Bourbon River Show New Orleans, Louisiana

"A Damn Good Time"

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