The Gourds

The Flat Baritone

The Gourds


Form a ring and wind and twine
Round the ol' grape vine 
Heavy on the wire from the house 
Salt the cow and kill the calf 
Meet yer lonesome with a once and a half 
Gent¹s on the east and ladies on the south 

The solemn boy carries his silver damage 
Sold but for, the number and the image

His eyes have saddened making wine from the stems 
Empty ears longing for the wood and the skins 
Paper yellowed from the salt and the failure 

When he sings he slurs 
& uses the meat of his thigh 
T¹hold the book he wrote when he was lame 
So wrapped up in his flat baritone 
No castrato could woo him in from the rain 

For he never raised his voice when his britches 
Was spillin¹ over with that honey truck richness 

His eyes have saddened making wine from the stems 
Empty ears longing for the wood and the skins
Paper yellowed from the salt and the failure 

Well the stylus hit the patches 
As he spit on the splashes 
& sought out the scratches in the vinyl 
'Neath a needle topped with nickels
To keep the tunes a-goin' 
Cracklin', croonin' & crowin' 

Multi-colored, hard-boiled & hidden 
In the corners, with the dogs rusty remnants 

His eyes have saddened making wine from the stems 
Empty ears longing for the wood and the skins 
Paper yellowed from the salt and the failure