Gumbo and Soul

Hitching down to Memphis with a suitcase full of sand.
Steel six string swinging from my right hand.
Tapping out some rhythm and singing some blues.
Looking for a way to stop looking for you.

But if this city just isn’t the right place for me.
I know a quirky little place south of Tennessee.
Steve Earle likes his girls from San Antonio.
But the one I’m looking for likes Gumbo and soul.

She likes Gumbo and soul.
And Jimmy Clanton, y’know.
She likes catfish and shrimp.
Daddy’s moonshine to drink.
She likes soul and Gumbo.
She likes some zydeco.
Skillet Lickers can play.
While she’s dancing away.
She likes Clanton, y’know.
She likes Gumbo and soul.

Been all the way to Vegas, but I’m back in New Orleans.
Manilow’s got nothing on our jazz and R and B.
A little Ragtime on the radio is all my baby needs.
Some Tennessee Champaigne on the rocks’ll set her free.

Some Skynyrd and a Honky Tonk’ll make my honey sing.
She’ll be dancing on the tables soon as Creendance do their thing.
Her simple southern attitude sure ain’t just for show.
‘Cause once the night is over she like her Gumbo and soul.

She likes Gumbo and soul.
And Jimmy Clanton, y’know.
She likes catfish and shrimp.
Daddy’s moonshine to drink.
She likes soul and Gumbo.
She likes some zydeco.
Skillet Lickers can play.
While she’s dancing away.
She likes Clanton, y’know.
She likes Gumbo and soul.

Yeah Gumbo and soul.
Clifton Chenier, y’know.
She likes crawfish and crab.
A little smoke to drag.
She likes soul and Gumbo.
And a zydeco show.
She likes the bayou life.
No trouble or strife.
She likes it simple y’know.
She likes Gumbo and soul.

She likes Gumbo and soul.
She likes Gumbo and soul.
She likes Gumbo and soul.

Hillbilly Heart

She looks good in that Stetson.
Belt buckled round her blue jeans.
Cute little boots.
An even cuter belly button ring.
Ready for dancing.
As ready as I’ll ever be.
Barman “pour me a drink”.
The same one that it’s ever been.

Then she shimmy’s in.
Just like a damn tornado.
Picks up her guitar.
Starts plucking, and we all know.
We’re gonna get up.
Start dancing on the tables.
Grab hold of that girl.
And spin her like a dreidel.

I told her I don’t listen to hip-hop.
Got no time for One D.
Can’t stand me no garage –
Dance or R & B.
I grew up on country.
And that sweet southern rock.
Anything else, I just don’t give a…

‘Cause I got a hillbilly heart.
A rough around the edges heart.
A whiskey at the weekend heart.
Man, I know what I love.

I’ll plough my pop’s field.
Then meet you at the diner.
You’re sat by the bar.
No-one else is looking finer.
Denim cut off’s.
Alligator skin boots.
Three button blouse.
It’s time for us to let loose.

‘Cause I got a hillbilly heart.
A rough around the edges heart.
A whiskey at the weekend heart.
That’s not all I love.

‘Cause it’s a hillbilly heart.
A Chevy truck and blue jeans heart.
A Honky-Tonk on Friday heart.
Man, I know what I love.

We drove around for hours, running all the red lights.
No other cars or trucks around this time of night.
Just you and me, we parked up on the shoulder.
Lay the seat back just so I could hold her.

She said: I don’t listen to hip-hop.
Got no time for One D.
Can’t stand me no garage –
Dance or R & B.
I grew up on country.
And that sweet southern rock.
Anything else, I just don’t give a…

‘Cause we’re just hillbilly hearts.
We like it fun and wild hearts.
Loving every minute hearts.
Yeah, we know what we love.

© 2014 Nick Burgin

My end of Year One blog review

It’s the end of the year, so I thought I’d review the first year of my blog, for myself if nothing else.

 

Followers: 87 – no idea if that’s good or not…I’m pretty sure it’s not great 🙂 Although thank you to everybody who’s followed me so far!

Total views: 853 – I was aiming for 1000, so I’m not too far off.

Best day for views – 28 on August 5th thanks to a 14 view surge from Three Chord Queen.

 

Top 3 “likes”:

3. Cellophane Man https://jbjfan2009.wordpress.com/2013/08/07/cellophane-man-a-poem/ – 8 likes

    The Vampyre: Canto One https://jbjfan2009.wordpress.com/2013/08/20/the-vampyre-a-gothic-romance/ – 8 likes

2. Her: Part 3 https://jbjfan2009.wordpress.com/2013/09/29/her-part-three/ – 10 likes

1. Here’s to you, kid https://jbjfan2009.wordpress.com/2013/11/23/heres-to-you-kid/ – 11 likes

 

Most views:

Although most of my “likes” come from my poems and lyrics, two of my top three views are from quite dark articles I wrote about Euthanasia, and the death of actor Cory Monteith from a heroin overdose.

3. Euthanasia https://jbjfan2009.wordpress.com/2013/07/31/euthanasia-if-youve-read-none-of-my-rants-so-far-please-read-this/ – 31 views

2. Three Chord Queen – https://jbjfan2009.wordpress.com/2013/07/27/three-chord-queen/ – 49 views

1. The Hollywood Addiction https://jbjfan2009.wordpress.com/2013/07/15/the-occasional-rant-formerly-daily-rant-episode-six-the-hollywood-addiction/ – 81 views

P.S. The answer to “how many Taylor Swift song titles” are in Three Chord Queen is…44!

 

Fan favourites:

Grandad https://jbjfan2009.wordpress.com/2013/05/04/grandad/

Alabama Blues https://jbjfan2009.wordpress.com/2013/03/14/alabama-blues-a-poem/

Survivor https://jbjfan2009.wordpress.com/2013/08/14/me-myself-and-i-a-poem/

 

My favourites:

The Present https://jbjfan2009.wordpress.com/2013/02/04/the-present-a-poem-2/ – the first poem I ever wrote.

Sweet Beatrice, My Muse https://jbjfan2009.wordpress.com/2013/10/01/sweet-beatrice-my-muse/

Welcome To The Honky Tonk https://jbjfan2009.wordpress.com/2013/08/28/welcome-to-the-honky-tonk-2/

Back To The Summer https://jbjfan2009.wordpress.com/2013/12/12/back-to-the-summer/

 

Unexpected Disappointments:

Back To My Roots https://jbjfan2009.wordpress.com/2013/06/02/back-to-my-roots-version-one/ – 0 likes

I’ll Always Be Your Hero https://jbjfan2009.wordpress.com/2013/09/06/ill-always-be-your-hero/ – 2 likes

Party Town https://jbjfan2009.wordpress.com/2013/06/22/party-town-or-one-of-those-nights/ – 2 likes

 

A lot of my other earlier poems like “Grandad” and “Alabama Blues” have got 0 likes, hopefully due to the fact that I had barely any followers, so I’m not too disappointed. 

 

I guess that’s it. All in all a pretty good first year I think. Roll on 2014!

 

Happy New Year!

 

 

She Don’t Give a Damn

My friend’s got a daughter she called Mississippi.
But it’s better than the last one she called Hillbilly.
She’s got long blonde hair right down to her breeches.
Spends night after night sleeping in dirty ditches.

My friend don’t smoke a lot but she sure loves her brandy.
Living in her double-wide it ain’t nothing fancy.
Some folks in the club say she’s nothing but trouble.
If she finds out who it was they’re gonna get double.

She don’t give a shit and she don’t give a damn.
If you ask her for proof you’ll meet the back of her hand.
She’s got a hell of a life and a hell of a plan.
Like I told you before…she don’t give a damn.

I met her way back way down in Louisiana.
Working her ass off with a chisel and a hammer.
I asked her if she’d show me how to get to Kenner.
She smiled and winked and gave me the middle finger.

She jumped in my truck and rode shotgun for a while.
Then left me one night with nothing but a smile.
I didn’t see her again for at least three years.
In a Baton Rouge bar hustling pool for free beer.

She don’t a damn and she don’t give a hoot.
If you ask why you’ll meet the sole of her boot.
She’s got a hell of a dream and a hell of a plan.
Like I told you before…she don’t give a damn.

The last time that we met she had another three kids.
The boys are both called Junior and the girl is called Miss.
The daddy’s are in prison or working lumber yards.
I didn’t dare tell her that ain’t gonna get her far.

She said the next time I see her she won’t be a mess.
She’ll clean herself up maybe buy herself a new dress.
She said she’ll be the best damn girl that I’ve ever seen.
It’ll be like dancing with the Queen of New Orleans.

She gives a bit of a shit and a bit of a damn.
I got down on my knee and took her hand in my hands.
This is a hell of  dream that we’re living in.
Now that she gives a damn…

Alabama Blues (A Poem)

This might be a bit rough around the edge, but I’ve been writing it for 2 weeks(!), so I’m just glad to finish it!

Alabama Blues

Pulling on my blue jeans and shining up my shoes, knowing that this ain’t the day to have the Alabama blues.

I ain’t gonna drive ‘cos I know I’m gonna drink; drink until I hit that hole but knowing I won’t sink.

‘Cos tonight’s the night for dancing, drinking, loving all night long. And singing all our favourite southern country songs.

So get off your ass and join me, you ain’t got shit to lose. And sing with me when I say to hell with Alabama blues.

Because the steel trade is booming, the lumber yards are loud, and pockets full of dollars are gonna hit the town.

The college boys and girls are celebrating another triumphant year. “The Crimson Tide are winning”, you’re gonna hear us cheer.

Now the tavern’s filling up with folks from near and far, downing Corona and Jaeger they’ve ordered from the bar.

As I sit down in the corner, you sit down by my side, and we both express those feelings that we’ve kept locked up inside.

Then we’ll both toke on a number and sip a jug of beer, and laugh about how good it is that you and I are here.

But that was then and this is now, and I’m just by myself. But the memories still linger, it’s something I can’t help.

The night wears on and I know there’s something I forgot to do; I forgot to raise my glass to the end of Alabama blues.

Now the air is getting hazy and the smoke is getting thick, and some old gal is on the dance floor ‘cause she’s a crazy chick.

So I’m just sitting here getting drunk and stoned and thinking ‘bout getting old, thankful I’ve got one good friend, that crazy rock ‘n’ roll.

With Waylon Jennings on the juke box and belly full of juice, I decide it’s time let the old crazy dragon loose.

I get up off my bar stool and head over to the floor, and start throwing down some dance moves that you ain’t seen before.

But only one thing matters, one thing that I can’t do, is forget about the time you gave me those rotten Alabama blues.

Because one sunny Huntsville morning you left me in my bed, and thanked the lord for leaving me, the burden that you shed.

So I dusted off the Chevy truck, that gleaming hunk of metal; and sat my ass in driver’s seat and put my foot down on the pedal.

And I put that truck on the highway with no thoughts of looking back, just driving ‘til I run out of gas knowing promises don’t mean jack.  

Little Rock in Arkansas, or Nashville, Tennessee, or maybe somewhere a little bit wild like Jackson, Mississippi.

They’ll all be my next stop, my next adventure without you. Or maybe next time I’ll just settle for some Louisiana blues.