There's a pine log shack in the mountains. That's where my Corey dwells.
She makes the finest mash liquor. What she doesn't drink she sells.
Well, the first time I seen darlin' Corey she was weavin' through the woods
With a kerosene lantern on her shoulder and a satchel full of goods.
Please do drop down next Monday. Please bring me a jug or five.
When the sun comes up on Tuesday don't figure to be alive.
Don't care if you are livin'. Don't care if you are dead.
If you're gonna drink my product then I'm gonna take your bread. (Frail, pardner)
Well, the last time I seen darlin' Corey, she was wand'rin' through the weeds
With a government man behind her. Gonna grab her for her deeds.
Wake up, wake up, darlin' Corey. What makes you sleep so sound? The revenue officer's a comin', gonna tear your still house down.
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CORTELIA CLARK
Mickey Newbury
I was just a boy the year the Blue Bird Special came through hereon its first run South to New Orleans.
A blind old man and I, we came to Guthrie just to see the train. He was black and I was green.
"Tell me what you see," said he. "Is the engine black or red, son? That's the loudest thing I've ever seen."
Then he picked his guitar up and sat on the fender of a truck. Then his eyes lit up as he begin to sing.
I remember when that old man's dreams were chained to a depot down in Guthrie and a Blue Bird Special train
Then he picked his guitar up and shuffled down the walk to the cars of town wound 'round the building at his feet
Looking mighty proud, that old man, with his battered hat in his hand. Lord, he sang a song that made me weep.
Yes, he made me weep.
I read it in a week-old paper. No one made it for his death or even lay a flower at his feet.
He was just a blind old beggar. He was sad, but, Lord, I'll wager he won't beg for nothing on his street.
You will find him, Lord, this morning. He'll be stepping from your door.
Can you save a street in glory for Cortelia Clark?
'Cause I was just a boy the week the Blue Bird Special came through here on its first run South to New Orleans.
A blind old man and I, we came to Guthrie just to see the train. He was black and was I green.
There's a pine log shack in the mountains. That's where my Corey dwells.
She makes the finest mash liquor. What she doesn't drink she sells.
Well, the first time I seen darlin' Corey she was weavin' through the woods
With a kerosene lantern on her shoulder and a satchel full of goods.
Please do drop down next Monday. Please bring me a jug or five.
When the sun comes up on Tuesday don't figure to be alive.
Don't care if you are livin'. Don't care if you are dead.
If you're gonna drink my product then I'm gonna take your bread. (Frail, pardner)
Well, the last time I seen darlin' Corey, she was wand'rin' through the weeds
With a government man behind her. Gonna grab her for her deeds.
Wake up, wake up, darlin' Corey. What makes you sleep so sound? The revenue officer's a comin', gonna tear your still house down.
-----
CORTELIA CLARK
Mickey Newbury
I was just a boy the year the Blue Bird Special came through hereon its first run South to New Orleans.
A blind old man and I, we came to Guthrie just to see the train. He was black and I was green.
"Tell me what you see," said he. "Is the engine black or red, son? That's the loudest thing I've ever seen."
Then he picked his guitar up and sat on the fender of a truck. Then his eyes lit up as he begin to sing.
I remember when that old man's dreams were chained to a depot down in Guthrie and a Blue Bird Special train
Then he picked his guitar up and shuffled down the walk to the cars of town wound 'round the building at his feet
Looking mighty proud, that old man, with his battered hat in his hand. Lord, he sang a song that made me weep.
Yes, he made me weep.
I read it in a week-old paper. No one made it for his death or even lay a flower at his feet.
He was just a blind old beggar. He was sad, but, Lord, I'll wager he won't beg for nothing on his street.
You will find him, Lord, this morning. He'll be stepping from your door.
Can you save a street in glory for Cortelia Clark?
'Cause I was just a boy the week the Blue Bird Special came through here on its first run South to New Orleans.
A blind old man and I, we came to Guthrie just to see the train. He was black and was I green.