We bought an Epiphone Les Paul for my heir for Christmas this year. Epiphone is owned by Gibson. Inexpensive, but really well made. We were always Fender people, but we got religion. Amazon’s got some amazing deals on some Gibson electric guitars right now:
Far be it from me to point out that half the world gets its monetary marching orders from an elderly backup singer in a ska band –after a scintillating synchronized swimming career– with a Paul Anka-grade addiction to suntanning. Of course, she took the place of a homunculus who likes to run around in a bath towel with his pud in his hand and show it to any passersby in his hotel room, so things are looking up!
There’s a house on my block
That’s abandoned and cold
Folks moved out of it a
Long time ago
And they took all their things
And they never came back
Looks like it’s haunted
With the windows all cracked
And everyone calls it
The house, the house where
Nobody lives
Once it held laughter
Once it held dreams
Did they throw it away
Did they know what it means
Did someone’s heart break
Or did someone do somebody wrong?
Well the paint was all cracked
It was peeled off of the wood
Papers were stacked on the porch
Where I stood
And the weeds had grown up
Just as high as the door
There were birds in the chimney
And an old chest of drawers
Looks like no one will ever
Come back to the
House were nobody lives
Once it held laughter
Once it held dreams
Did they throw it away
Did they know what it means
Did someone’s heart break
Or did someone do someone wrong?
So if you find someone
Someone to have, someone to hold
Don’t trade it for silver
Don’t trade it for gold
I have all of life’s treasures
And they are fine and they are good
They remind me that houses
Are just made of wood
What makes a house grand
Ain’t the roof or the doors
If there’s love in a house
It’s a palace for sure
Without love…
It ain’t nothin but a house
A house where nobody lives
Without love it ain’t nothin
But a house, a house where
Nobody lives.
Across the alley from the Alamo
Lived a pinto pony and a Navajo
Who sang a sort of Indian Hi-de-ho
To the people passin’ byThe pinto spent his time a-swishin’ flies
And the Navajo watched the lazy skies
And very rarely did they ever rest their eyes
On the people passin’ byOne day, they went a walkin’ along the railroad track
They were swishin’ not a-lookin’ Toot! Toot!, they never came backOh, across the alley from the Alamo
When the summer sun decides to settle low
A fly sings an Indian Hi-de-ho
To the people passing byAcross the alley from the Alamo
Lived a pinto pony and a Navajo
Who used to bake frijoles in cornmeal dough
For the people passing byThey thought that they would make some easy bucks
By washin’ their frijoles in Duz and Lux,
A pair of very conscientious clucks
To the people passin’ byThen they took this cheap vacation, their shoes were polished bright
No, they never heard the whistle, Toot! Toot! they’re clear out of sightOh, across the alley from the Alamo
When the starlight beams its tender glow
The beams go to sleep and then there ain’t no dough
For the people passin’ by
Lovely close-harmony singing to go along with the bluegrass fiddling around. That’s an old Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys number as I recall.
Written by Joe Greene from Spokane, according to Texas Monthly in 1984. Joe said he’d never been to the Alamo, and he wrote the song while he was asleep with a broken arm. I’ll have to try that method. Yields results. It reminds me of a story I heard about a woman with a wooden leg named Irene. I regret that I can’t remember what her other leg’s name was.
Paul Carrack in 1976 performing How Long with Ace. Paul Carrack is cooler than you because he was in Roxy Music and Squeeze. The only way you could be cooler than that is if you were Miles Davis, and you’d be dead so you wouldn’t leave a comment.
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