Lyrics for The Evening Call

Joy Tears
Evening Call
Cold & Dark & Wet
Bucket
Mighty Sweet Watermelon
Treat Each Other Right
Eugene
Coneville Slough
Kokomo
Pound It On Down
Skinny Days
Whippoorwill

Joy Tears

I woke up this morning wishing it would rain. All this heat and dryness is messing with my brain. Want to see some thunderheads rising up above the Great Plains. I woke up this morning kissing the pillow where your head has lain. People who say they understand love, they are either a liar or a fool. Love can be so kind, then turn right around and be so cruel. My old heart is just as stubborn as a mule. I woke up this morning, my love was shining like a jewel. When you start your singing, honey, the heavens open up with grace. It comes right from your heart, it's such an open place. Whatever had me down is gone without a trace. I woke up this morning with joy tears on my face.

Evening Call

I had my fun, my fun had me And from beneath her parasol She says "goodbye, old used to be - Get ready for the evening call." She has grown cold, but how warm she was - The morning lawn writes history In lost high heels and empty cups Whose lipstick stains are kissing me. How chill the air, and my heart is poor. How low the sun, how high the wall. Sweet music drifting out my door Merges with the evening call. I had my fun, my fun had me. So slow she turns, and swaying goes To a young man beneath a shady tree Who there undoes her pretty clothes.

Cold & Dark & Wet

I fell in love like a drunk in a pond. That twisted gal of whom I was fond, She found a new man on the internet. Wham I'm spam and it's cold and dark and wet. Tell me what is a fella supposed to do When a car costs what a house used to And a house is a pile of chipboard, paint, and debt. I'm at the city limits and it's cold and dark and wet Big rig rolling over me in a blizzard - I'm living on beans and chicken gizzards. One day I was young, the next day I was old. Late November, it's wet and dark and cold. Jobs, I guess they're like wild geese - They all went flying overseas. I'm standing in the rain smoking my last cigarette. Morning in America is cold and dark and wet. Christmas lights are going up, I could use a little joy juice in my cup. Life is not a walk across the park, Not when it's wet and cold and dark.

Bucket

Put it in the bucket if the bucket's there, Throw it in the alley, honey, I don't care, Stay beneath the covers in your underwear and throw down. Put it in the mail, sail it on the sea, Dress it up and send it to the jubilee - I got a woman down in Missouri, I'm gonna go down. Take it to the forest and give it a toss, Down in the gully, honey, over in the moss, Without you, babe, I'm a total loss and a loser. Send me an E, call me on the phone, Please don't leave me here all alone, Morning comes like the twilight zone, I can't use her. Ain't it a big one, ain't it tall, Looks about as high as a prison wall, Up we climb and down we fall together. Over and over and into the blue We say we are but we're never through. I've got a big bad thing for you forever. Call it impossible, call it a crime, Not kissing you is a waste of time, It doesn't scan and it doesn't rhyme without you. Call it a picnic, take it to the park, Meet me at the willow along about dark, The only song I sing like a meadowlark is about you. Fry it up, choke it down, save me some, I'm so happy I must be dumb, A sparrow at your shoes pecking at the crumbs you're leaving. How do we end what we should begin, I don't even know what town we're in, Please, God, say that it isn't a sin I'm grieving. Yes, it's a big one, yes, it's wide, Out to the world from deep inside, With me, love, oh please abide a while. Once again I am on my knees Singing to you in Portuguese, It feels like the sky and the wind and the trees are on trial. Put it in your laughter, put it in your drink, Put all the pretty lies under the sink, You always hid me, didn't you think I was trying? Write it in your journal or prop it in a nook, It oughta be illegal when you give me that look, Write another chapter at the close of the book I'm dying. Mix it with the ashes, throw it on the rocks, Hide it in your bra, stuff it in your socks, Only you and I could take those walks, oh my dear. Wash it all out, throw it in the dryer, Put it on the back burner with a low fire, Write another song for the lonely choir, just get it out of here. Yes, it's a big one, yes, it's tall, Two little children and one big wall, Up we climb and down we fall together. You say a gal's gotta do what a gal's gotta do, Well, just you remember how I love you And that I've got a big bad thing for you forever.

Mighty Sweet Watermelon

Mighty sweet watermelon, spitting out the seeds. Go see if Gramma got everything she needs, Tell her I'll be over in the morning, Tell her I'll be over real soon. Mighty fine pumpkin, we'll save up all the seeds. Go see if Grampa got everything he needs, Tell him I'll be over in the morning, Tell him I'll be over real soon. Mighty chilly evening, come get in bed - Toe to toe, head to head - So glad to wake up with you in the morning. Sunflowers dancing like my daughters do. Life gets old, love makes it new. Come on down and meet us in the garden.

Treat Each Other Right

One of these nights, I wouldn't be surprised If even the old moon had to close her pretty eye - We got so evil, I feel troubled tonight. This old world brought us all here, So why can't we treat each other right. I was watching the TV in a motel and I had to turn away. Somebody killed a bunch of children, said it was about their godly way. My friend had a dream, it about made me cry. He said he saw two stone Buddhas rising where those towers had filled the sky. Peace on earth, when will it ever be in sight? This old world is everybody's beautiful home So why can't we treat each other right. If everyone is praying to whatever gods there may be, I'd say we all better pray to each other for forgiveness before we lose our sanity. We got so evil...

Eugene

["Eugene" transcribed by Nancy Roche.] I think I'll drive out to Eugene, get a slide-in camper for my truck, pack a bamboo rod, hip boots, a book of flies from a Missoula pawn shop, rub mink oil into the cracked leather, wonder about the old guy who tied these trout chew flies. They work good. Take along my Gibson JF45 made by women during World War II, coffee stained stack of maps, a little propane stove, a pile of old quilts, a can opener, kipper snacks, smoked oysters, gun powder tea, a copper teapot, and a good sharp knife. Sometimes you have to go -- look for your life. I'll park by some rivers, cook up some rice and beans, read Ferlinghetti out loud, talk to the moon tell, her all my life tales, she's heard them many times. I'll make up some new juicier parts, drink cold whiskey from a tin cup, sit in a lawn chair and fiddle with my memories, close my eyes and see. Sometimes you gotta go not look for nothin'. The Northwest is good, once you get off I-5 and wander up and down the Willamette dammit, on the back back roads. I know a few people who'd let me park in their drive, plug in for a night or two, stay up late, and talk about these crazy times -- the blandification of our whole situation. And then back to the woods. A dog is bound to find me sooner or later. Sometimes you gotta not look too hard -- just let the dog find you. Then head south and east, maybe through Nevada, the moonscape of Utah. Stay in some weird campground where Rodney and Marge keep an eye on things. Everybody's got a story, everybody's got a family, and a lot of them have RV's. I'm on my way to the Ozarks, to the White River and the Kern. Those small mouth are great on a fly rod. And they're not all finicky like trout. Trout are English and bass are Polish. And if I wasn't born in Central Europe I should have been. Maybe it's not too late. Sometimes you have to dream deep to find your real life at all. I might go on over through Memphis. I played a wedding at the Peabody Hotel once twenty odd years ago, and everybody danced. Usually they just set there and stare. A few at least sway. The roads are stupid crowded everywhere. Kids coming along are used to it -- all wired up and ready, or wireless I guess, and even readier. World peace is surely on the horizon, once us old fuckers die. I'll do my part, but first I wanna to go across Tennessee into North Carolina. Fish some of those little mountain streams, catch some brook trout which are God's reminder that creation is a good idea. The world we've made scares the hell out of me. There's still a little bit of heaven in there and I wanna show it due respect. This looks like a good spot up here. You can try me on the cell, but most places I wanna be it doesn't work. Sometimes you got to listen hard to the sounds old Mother Earth still makes -- all on her own.

Coneville Slough

We came out of the country and drove into the cityscape - Like every other one in America, it's a black and white town. You were sitting beside me, neither of us in good shape, Leaning on one another and coming back down. We had walked miles along Cape Cod, I was right behind you Watching your hips move, and the cloudy sky - The ocean was cold, by God, you were stiff and your lips were blue. It ain't hard to find the groove when you don't have to try. Truck parked by the Yellow Dog, I had gone way upstream, You sat in your lawn chair, so sad and alone, And I recall how your eyes would fog when you went deep into your dream. You and the sky were both bare, down to the bone. I'm a shy exhibitionist standing by a window, Thinking about a woman from Boston town, How she danced in a slow twist, how wide her arms would go, When the city night was coming in, and the sun going down. You can walk down the avenue with your coat all around you And all the phantoms glowing just as bright as can be, Yeah, but what really gets through to you, where is the one who found you When everything was showing on the day you felt free. I was just wondering where the wild swans gather And if you ever stand in their glory like we did that day When the sky was thundering and we were all the way together In the middle of a big story that doesn't fade away.

Kokomo

There's a tenderloin special at the Sak 'N' Save, the sky is a dirty sock. I left my hat at the laundromat, met an old guy walking round the block. I asked him how to get out of town, he said "how far you wanna go?" I said "I was thinking of Arkansas," he said "you'd be better off in Kokomo" With a payday loan and a migraine I crossed Contrary Creek, Looking for a gal that I knew as Sal, we were married once for a week. I found her way back in the woods, all her secrets hidden under the snow. She pointed my way with a 28 gauge on the road to Kokomo. Amelia Earhart lived here, but she didn't stick around too long. She crossed that bridge on just two wheels and, by God, she was gone. I stayed too long in Kansas trying to tell a "yes" from a "no" - But she wouldn't say and I am on my way on the road to Kokomo. Come all you brave young cowboys and get into software. Why be a roustabout now when you could be a millionaire? The grain elevator is leaning, the trucks are rolling slow. Get out of hock, so long Red Rock, hello Kokomo. You know she was just my type: deranged, middle-aged, and crude, Nipples the size of jack balls, and a real bad attitude. She wore my ass out so damn fast, left me nowhere to go, With a sticky wicket and a greyhound ticket, one-way to Kokomo. Oh, these Michigan women, they know me much too well, They take me high and they leave me low, they can find me by my smell. And I would still be up in the U P, sitting by the fire's glow If she hadn't whipped off her tubetop and run me down to Kokomo. Dig my grave with a Bobcat, and throw in a couple of spuds. Asses to asses, butts to butts, red blood to red mud. Pass around a bottle of Jim Beam, play something on the banjo. If anybody asks you where I've gone, just tell 'em "to Kokomo."

Pound It On Down

Catfish ain't biting, water ain't flowing, River's so low you could walk clear across. I'm all through traveling, home's where your hat is. I ain't got no hat and I ain't got no boss. Pound it on down Pound it on down Pound it on down deep in the ground I loved some women more than I should have, I loved some others less than was right. Some loved me madly, some done me badly, I'm drinking one drink for each one tonight. Pound it on down... I got an old boat sets low in the water. I built it myself out of riverbank junk. When I am dead you can throw my old bones in. Cut the rope, kick the boat. Buddy, I'm sunk. Pound it on down...

Skinny Days

My skinny days, my heavy nights - A blue blue room, up three flights - She waves and turns from the window to her boy. The band is through, the wedding gown Is one more flag that's coming down. The sun is rising like a bomb over Illinois. My heavy nights, my skinny days - The way she tends her secret place While uncles gather in the parlor thick with smoke. Cousin Lou is in the hay - They say she knows how to play The game of love, and her guitar with two strings broke. Out on the beach beneath a towel They fall asleep until the howl Of wind and wave wake them up and they catch the last commuter train. Her skinny days and her family Have stripped her down for all to see But her big mouth could drink them all like summer drinks the rain. She put her ring in her underwear drawer While the world tumbled from war to war. There was a box full of gifts to be returned. She grew her garden, mostly wild, And walked for miles and raised her child. She kept her cool, but after midnight she burned. I told the tale. I walked the line In Michigan, into the pines. I made a camp, I built a fire, I loved myself. And skinny days have gained some weight And wasting time keeps me up late. I'm sending you this book of pictures, for your shelf.

Whippoorwill

If you ever leave, and I imagine you will, It'll just be me and the whippoorwill - Just we two, and the evening star, If you pack your suitcase and go get in your car And drive down the road In the mud or the dust, over to the river, KC or bust. If you ever go, I'll be here still, Getting annoyed at the whippoorwill. Getting annoyed, unable to sleep, the dust too dusty, Or the mud too deep. I'll follow your dust, Or I'll follow your tracks over to the hard road, And I'll bring you back. If you won't come back, I'll stay on your trail, Up through heaven, or down through hell. I'll miss this old place, I'll miss these old hills. But I sure won't miss that whippoorwill. You are dearer to me than the birds or the stars, Sweeter to me than the hills and the flowers. Long as I have you I can take anything. So let love be home, and let the whippoorwill sing.
Lyrics courtesy of Red House Records.

Main Greg Brown Page