When it comes over me

I have to sit very still

Or I betray myself.

The shadows of a hundred years roll in

The shadows of tomorrow’s years roll in

And it is hard to swallow.

Old brother Willoughby built him a house

It had a wide porch and a young trumpet vine

The peach tree in the back bore its first fruit.

Old sister Willoughby sat out of a morning

Doing her stitching nodding to the neighbors, smiling at the river

Pretty Sally Willoughby monogrammed a trousseau.

And sat out of an evening with young brother Green.

And when the tall man went by he left a smile behind him.

The women before meeting shared the City’s business.

“Cora had her baby, both doing fine.”

“Well Sally when is the wedding? Mary how’s the boy?”

“We had a lovely trip. Did you get a letter yet?”

“Look there is brother Joseph. We’d better hurry in.”

Ole Joe Smith got his.

The sound of breaking hearts is silence

The hearse was a wagon, I choked as it rolled by

I couldn’t make a sound I couldn’t make a cry.

And when the wagon rolled by it left a pain behind it.

Sing along, sing along, there is going to be a wedding

Sing along sing along. There’s going to be a dance.

Ha Ha Ha Ha Ole Joe Smith got his.

Nobody got no call to mess with religion.

I hate them bloody Mormons

Man I hate their guts.

Old brother Willoughby made a little pine box

Only six feet long with a pillow in the head.

Made it in the midnight made it in the winter

Made it with his own hands. Made it her last bed.

O beautiful for spacious skies, For amber waves of grain,

For purple mountains majesty above the fruited plain.

I’ll sell it to you cheap we’re leaving here this summer.

Fruit trees in the back, long wide porch.

Built it with my own hands. Built it for my Mrs.

“No I’ll wait a while keep looking round”

I’ll sell really cheap, got to get a wagon.

“Now, you think I’m a sucker. Why buy when I can wait.”

What’s a matter ole lady can’t you run.

Please–

Don’t you see what this is–it’s a gun–”

“Oh please.”

Get on old woman. Get up and go on, get you rats out

Before another day. What’s a’matter old woman.

Please, God.

Shud-up! How’s that want another smack.

It’s young Ben Green. They brought him from the river.

Young Ben Green with a bullet in his head.

Where is little Sally? Better get her father.

Young Ben Green in the river dead.

“How many more miles”

A long way mother.

A long long way to California

Over them hills, clear across Iowa

Over them ‘hills, out across the way.

No I don’t think it’ll rain all the way.