All lyrics © Wes Weddell (Dusty Shadows Music, ASCAP), 2001: All Rights Reserved
* Not included on CD due to copyright restrictions
Mossyrock, Lewis County Apr 3-4, 2001
We’re mighty pleased to meet you, grab yourself a chair, A cup of coffee might be nice to pass the time Well, welcome to the Deli, we’re the Story Tellin’ Club, It’s four o’clock and time to let the yarns unwind The sign says “Truth Not Tolerated,” but we’ll make this one exception-— We can see it in your smile that you mean well Down in Mossyrock, Lewis County, just off Highway 12 The years have blown by like they do anywhere else CHORUS: The railroad blew our namesake landmark up with dynamite, I guess it’s just become a rolling stone Now the lake is running shallow, but the tourist money’s up Through all the ups and downs it’s been our home In eighteen hundred fifty-two (or thereabouts) our claim went through, And Mossyrock went on the map to stay And ’long about 1861, some native neighbors passing on Left with a story we still tell today Well, Mr. Henry Bucy had heard tell many a tale ’Bout Indians scalping captives taken ’long the way So he took his gun and set off running, shot himself when all they wanted Was an opportunity to trade! Down where CHORUS That same winter took its toll, and a century later—mighty storm Ran through the country on Columbus Day Winds a-howlin’ from the west, Mother Nature did her best, To topple every building in her way The dam went up in ’68-tallest in the state, it’s just Grand Coulee’s got herself a better name Flooded out two towns, but now the water’s running down, And the tourists, they can’t keep themselves away; here where CHORUS Now you espresso drinkers tend to speed in rental cars and SUVs, So keep your schedule moving—we don’t mind But if you’ve got the time to spend in company of newfound friends, You’re welcome in the Deli any time The sign says “Truth Not Tolerated,” but we’ll make this one exception— We can see it in your smile that you mean well Down in Mossyrock, Lewis County, just off Highway 12 The years have blown by like they do anywhere else CHORUS Yes, through all the ups and downs it’s been our home— Been our home
Lakeside Summer Home Apr 23-5, 2001
Summer, when the lilacs are in bloom, Makes the city more alive and much less like an urban tomb, But just a hop and skip on further down the line Lies a getaway that even beats the floral comforts they provide The mercury’d start rising, and we’d flee, Trade our bustle for the beauty of the wooded hills and sandy beaches So ‘summer colony’ became the name Given to our four-month exodus to beautiful Lake Coeur d’Alene CHORUS: Moonlight on the silver water sparkling in the breeze Was heaven for us cityfolk off seeking some relief— We were thirty miles of railroad track from the rest of our lives, But the city seemed so far away those lakeside summer nights Saturday the men would come: Briefcases in hand, they would shuffle off the train and run For two nights they would cause a friendly stir With their boat races and parties, they would try to make the newspaper When Monday rolled around, well, off they’d go Back into the working world, which we’d chosen to ignore Every week they’d follow their routine It ain’t easy building cities without taking some breaks in between, so CHORUS Summer sunsets slowly fade away Seasons change, and with them we would leave our chosen bay And head back into the lives we had known before As the city swelled around us, growing daily all the more, But, on some long cold winter nights, a wandering mind Would leave the chilly frost and bitter winds and darkness far behind For thoughts of sunlit pine trees swaying on the shores Of the lake where we’d spent many happy days just months before, and we’d sing CHORUS From Driftwood Point to Beauty Bay, and places in between Del Cardo down to Harrison—we’d sail the Lurline Twin Beaches to the city docks to Waldheim we would roam Landing back at Okabena—our lakeside summer home
Drifting May 21, 2001
The revolution brought us trouble, so we fled, But trouble at home was even worse Father’s life was one you read about And hope it never crosses yours But cross it did, and so I fled again— Try my luck out on the sea Broke my heart to leave my mother there, But sacrifices set me free If I sail away tomorrow Will you wait for me once more? I’ve been drifting for my whole life Can you bring me back to shore? From the Baja to the Bering was my home, Friends were scattered far and wide Rarely time to settle down for just a spell Come and go like summer tides But one trip through the Great Northwest begat a change, And I began to think I’d stay Trade my life upon the lonely sea For my Jamestown angel in P.A. If I sail away tomorrow Will you wait for me once more? I’ve been drifting for my whole life Can you bring me back to shore? So I bid my roving home a fond farewell, And we were married happily So my life began again, my friend, And so the trouble followed me Love grows strong without condition, But folks would rather hide our truth, And I was asked to leave the village If I saw the marriage through But I won’t sail away without you, And we can find another home You can drift along beside me, And we will never be alone
Ballad of the Whitman Greeks May 2-4, 2001
As I walked down the award-winning Main Street In a town made famous by many a cartoon, I spied a young coed with chips on her shoulder, Cursing a story that she swore was true “The ‘Betas’ and ‘Tekes,’ ” she cried with a vengeance, “They have their own houses in which to run free, But that Chester Maxey, as mayor of the city, He’s ruined my fate with one simple decree! (“When he said:) Any more than five unmarried women living here together Constitutes a brothel in the town of Walla Walla, So we Kappa Alpha Theta sisters can’t have our sorority, Except inside this dormitory—don’t you think that sucks?” “Well, isn’t that something?” I replied in earnest, “I’ve come seeking stories, so thanks for the lead And what a great folk song this story would make— That is, if historically grounded indeed” But neither Chamber of Commerce nor City Attorney, Nor college official had heard of this tale: “Yes, Maxey confronted the oldest profession, But no law of his would land coeds in jail” (But they swear:) “Any more than five unmarried women living here together Constitutes a brothel in the town of Walla Walla, So we Kappa Alpha Theta sisters can’t have our sorority, Except inside this dormitory—don’t you think that sucks?” Now, on many a campus throughout the whole country You’ll find this same story of Panhellenic vice; But despite all that’s happening, it’s first on the list For the students who live in the city named twice (But we know:) Any more than five unmarried women living here together May not be illegal, but it’s sure no piece of cake But I’d hate to let the facts destroy an entertaining story, So I’ll leave the rest to you—set the folk process on its way!
Part of the song is sung to the tune of “Streets of Laredo” (trad., arr. Weddell)
Moving On Without Us May 11, 2001
In eighteen-hundred-ninety, we brought our towns together United in prosperity and nothing we can’t weather We’d build ourselves a tower for the good times sure to come, But time started moving on without us The clock atop the tower—it was almost set to go, But hard times hit in ’93, and funds were running low, So painted hands were all we could afford to show our town, And time kept on moving on without us ’Twas seven o’clock dusk to dawn, without a striking bell, But stiff winds and neglect soon did the faces in as well, Then hard times fell again, and we had more important cares, So time kept on moving on without us City Hall moved out, and the museum moved on in They began to fix the clock up after fifty years, but then They painted hands in memory of moments from the past, And time kept on moving on without us 1962 saw the building all-ablaze The clock had perished before it could see its working days Time was standing still before, but now it ceased to stand at all, Yes, time kept on moving on without us By ’74 they had put a new one in its place The clock came with a battery to help it keep its pace, But still we dreamed of works just like the ones for which we’d planned, And time tried to move along without us By ’95 mechanics matched, an everything was great Never mind the fact it was one-hundred-three years late, Or the troubles it was having, for the works—they barely worked, And time kept on moving on without us Now we’ve weathered quite a bit since the tower first was built Mills’ll close and waves’ll roll, but some things never quit And we’ll be here another hundred-plus time and again, ’Cause time just can’t move along without us! No, time just can’t move along without us!
Carpe Diem, Carpie Apr 29, 2001
Here’s a story that I was told, And it’s likely one you’ve never heard before It’s about a certain someone and a fascinating life, The greatness of which one cannot deny For seventy-two years he lived alone In a space not too much bigger than a phone...booth He had visitors come daily, and I guess that kept him sharp, But you don’t give much away when you’re a carp Caught in 1922, they took him home Tried to give him space to ramble and to roam, But the mules—they wouldn’t drink from water shared with such a fish, So Uncle Johnny moved him to the horses’ dish So, from 1924 to ’96 He lived peacefully among the barnyard mix Except for one time when he jumped out—he was quite the voyager— But his guardians, they got him re-submerged CHORUS: Carpe Diem, Carpie, You’ve inspired many a sole From your lofty perch, you look so koi and glee...ful We call you ‘he,’ but that could be a ‘she’ for all we know What a specimen of ichthyology! Now, the mighty Snake in which you used to swim, Well, they’ve dammed her into lakes since you’ve been...there Now some cry, “Take the dams out!” while still others say “Back off!” But I doubt that that concerned you from your trough May you rest in peace there, buddy, by and by In that giant golden horse trough in the sky With times a-changin’ so fast, it was always nice to see A pillar of aquarian stability CHORUS What a specimen of ichthyology!
Top of the World May 31, 2001
CHORUS: Top of the world on a Toppenish farm, Where the growing gets tougher when the weather gets warm Go out dancing in the still moonlight Where the West still lives tonight A little farther south than you prob’ly plan to drive Lies a town who sure has lived a lot in her life, Where memories thrive in the hearts and the minds And they’re painted on the building sides There’re pictures of the people, there’re pictures of the times, There’re pictures of the dances and the patterns of the lives From the rhythm of Celilo to the long cattle drive And an outhouse tippin’ on its side CHORUS Ruth and Maud sure knew how to fight Like the folk who won’t let nobody forget Ol’ ’55 With the Owl Child watching from the comfort of his horse And the final ‘All Aboard’ You can read about the fellow who fought himself a b’ar While you’re lookin’ at the hops and the old school barns, And every year in June when the clouds’re rollin’ high You can sit and watch the paintings dry CHORUS When the time is right, and you’re out a-wandering And you want to push further than the state’s Palm Springs You can do yourself a favor and head on down And you might just paint the town CHORUS (2x) Where the culture’s rich and the feeling so alive, And where the West still lives tonight!
We’ve Got Stories May 29, 2001
I went wandering through some country just last weekend Looking for a song to bide my time, And I asked a lot of folk what kept them busy, And they looked at me with mischief in their eyes; and they said: “Come back sometime when you’ve got a moment, And we’ll tell you all there is to know and tell We’ve got stories out the door and down the hallway— It takes some time to know this country well!” I pressed further in this quest for earthly knowledge, Prayed for them to bless me with details I heard something about pants around some ankles But the rest they kept behind that wayward veil; but they said: “Come back sometime when you’ve got a moment, And we’ll tell you all there is to know and tell We’ve got stories out the door and down the hallway— It takes some time to know this country well!” Woody hung around just down the highway, Wrote about the river and the dams, But he missed the suicide race down the canyon, Though he probably met some folk who took the stand; who might say: “Come back sometime when you’ve got a moment, And we’ll tell you all there is to know and tell We’ve got stories out the door and down the hallway— It takes some time to know this country well!” As I sit here tonight, the jukebox playing That song about the wild side of life My thoughts are drifting toward the rowdy Okanogan Where the gossip won’t come out without a fight; but I will Come back sometime when I’ve got a moment, And take in all there is to know and tell Even wild ones can’t resist a lofty story That can build the country character so well Yes, you should come back sometime when you’ve got a moment, They’ll tell you all there is to know and tell They’ve got stories out the door and down the hallway— It takes some time to know this country well!
Tune: “Great Speckled Bird” (Smith)
Row, Row Your Boat May 26-8, 2001
So, I hear you’re just about to hang it up One more lap around the track and that will be enough, But I wish you could’ve been there on that day When your friends began to list the things they wanted me to say They said your openness to all came shining through, And your brilliant spirit only grew and grew Your embracing of ideas—they could tell; If they said those things about me I’d prob’ly hang it up as well CHORUS: Row, row your boat Through waters deep and wide Keep us afloat The memories you’ve left us—they will linger on inside Your early days here make a fine report They tell of love beads and of sandals and some slick Bermuda shorts Now it’s suits and blazers everywhere you go, But the comfort of your company dependeth not upon the clothes CHORUS High above his children, there he stands With his arms crossed he is waiting for the day when he will shake their hands Solemn jubilation in his eyes Underneath that quiet gaze—seems everything will be all right CHORUS (2x)
My Northwest Home 2000
My daddy grew up in the South looking for his own, While Mamma had the pleasure of calling Manhattan home, But God brought on the Sixties—the events that did unfold Drove my Mom and Dad to settle on the brink of Idaho They could have sung their stories, no doubt to rave review, But they’ve been working upright jobs—it’s me who write the tunes While an Appalachian farmer’s child I certainly am not, If you’ll check your country pride a sec, I’ll give you all I’ve got Take me back to my country Take me back to my Northwest home I don’t need you, just your attention I’m doin’ all right on my own We do our share of farming here, but I’ll still have you know We’re urbanized like every major city on the go! Hard times have hit us too, you know, but see how we move on: When our logging towns go belly-up, they go Bavarian Don’t you think it’s always rosy, unless you want to spend Your money here, in which case all is happy in the end We’re pioneering yuppie trends, and I’ll bet you every day Our dams are wiping out more fish than any TVA! Take me back to my country Take me back to my Northwest home We don’t need you, just your attention We’re doin’ all right on our own Blue Moon of Seattle, keep on shinin’ way up high I doubt we’ll get to see you through the clouds up in the sky No, Foggy ain’t a mountain if it ain’t got any snow, And I’d like to see the Wabash pull a loaded barge in tow Take me back to my country Take me back to my Northwest home We don’t need you, just your attention We’re doin’ all right on my own Doin’ all right on our own