Category: Blind John Ellsworth

Pop Country Blues – The Girl From New York City

Editor’s Note: There are only so many stories you can tell, and sometimes, the same stories get told different ways. Blind John Ellsworth would occasionally recycle his basic stories, and assume since the target audiences were different, nobody would ever know. For example, what happens if some poor boy meets the same girl in a pop song, a country song and a blues song? These are the stories of the girl from New York City.

Pop

I met a girl
In New York City.
Her friends were loud,
But she was pretty.

We fell in love
All summer long.
When autumn came,
Our love was strong.

We married in Spring,
Our lives were linked.
The years flew by,
As if we blinked.

We grew old together,
We were always in love.
My girl and I, forever,
Are in heaven above.

Country

I met a girl
From New York City.
Her friends were loud,
But she sure was pretty.

They were Florida-bound,
Spring Break and such.
I tried to go with them,
I loved her that much.

We moved back home
To Tennessee.
I loved her madly.
She said she loved me.

One day, I awoke,
And found she was gone.
My New York queen,
Had sacrificed her pawn.

I still miss her badly,
I’ll dream of her tonight.
My New York City girl,
With her eyes shinin’ bright.

I hope she’ll come back.
I hope someday she’ll miss me.
I’m still waiting and hoping,
In the hills of Tennessee.

Blues

I met a girl
In New York City.
Her friends were loud,
But she was pretty.

Moved her to Dallas,
To start a new life.
Bought a house together,
Made her my wife.

Found her sleepin’ with my brother.
She broke my heart that day.
What’s even more disturbing,
Is that my brother is gay.

Made her a cocktail,
Told her she was still mine.
Just filled it up with poison,
Mixed in with her wine.

Buried her last weekend,
Was still sad to see her go.
My girl from New York City,
Now six feet down below.

Dog Poetry

What if my dog were a poet?
That would explain the rhythmic barks.
The ones that last all day,
The ones that last throughout the dark.

I think he may be a singer,
And he’s in a protest mood.
“Let me out of my crate!”
“Bring me more food!”

Bark, Bark, Bark, Bark.
Woof, Woof, Woof, Woof.
Hooooowwwwlll.
Woof. Woof. Woof. Woof.

Not much rhymes with “woof.”

If my dog were a singer,
I could be very rich.
I just have to translate to English,
And remember he can say “bitch”.

SuperCenter Blues

(Editor’s Note: Recycled from the BJE Facebook page, published there August 5, 2010. This makes it a bonus track for NaPoWriMo 2014.)

BJE said – I don’t want to use any real establishment names, because my lawyer said that would be bad. Let’s just say this was written while watching the crowd at a really big mart where Jessica Simpson would think you bought walls.

SuperCenter Blues
with apologies (and a nod) to Right Said Fred

I’m too sexy for this place
I’ve just seen a face
It was on “Without A Trace”
Too sexy …

I’m too sexy for this mart
I’m filling up my cart
I hope that smell’s a fart
Too sexy …

I’m too sexy but I’m old
I’d never be quite so bold
Say, don’t your ass get cold?
Too sexy …

I’m too sexy for my sight
They’re giving me a fright
They all come out at night
Too sexy …

I’m too sexy for this food
I’m hope that I’m not rude
But that chick there’s a dude
Too sexy …

I’m too sexy for this store
I think I saw a whore
I’m running for the door
Too sexy …

I’m too sexy ’cause I’m white
My receipt’s kept out of sight
The guards just nod “Good night!”
Too sexy …

 

Leaving Early

I’m stuck at the office again.
I was going to leave an hour ago.
One thing after another arose.
A dozen “just one more thing to go.”

Traffic is building up outside.
Each minute here adds ten to the drive.
I might as well just stay here now.
I’ll never make it home alive.

It doesn’t matter your position,
From leader down to clerk.
The only way to leave the office early,
Is to never go to work.

Insomnia

I can’t sleep any more.
I can’t sleep any less.
I’m staring at the ceiling.
My brain is quite the mess.

I traveled the world over.
Time zones changing every day.
Now, I’m feeling my eyelids flutter.
While I’m trying to hit the hay.

I took a nap this afternoon,
That should have done the trick.
I’m awake way past my bedtime,
Listening to my clock tick.

I’m never going to sleep again,
I’m just staying up all night.
It’s time to watch infomercials.
I’ve given up the fight.

I’m in this over my head,
I’m in this thing too deep.
The only cure for insomnia
is a good night’s sleep.

A long time ago

A long time ago,
And far, far away,
I saw her standing there,
Watching some new band play.

The Beatles changed the world.
Their music still resounds.
It’s better than today’s pop,
But this isn’t really about them.

The year before the Sullivan show,
(an even longer time ago),
My wife came into this world.
Not a band, but solo.

Her family pokes fun,
They tell her now she’s old.
She’s the baby, though,
So their insults run cold.

I would never poke fun.
It’s not my style.
I try to honor the aged,
As they begin their final mile.

All I can say is:

Oh, yeah, I tell you something,
I think you’ll understand.
When I tell you something,
I wanna hold your hand.

Mainly because,
I really don’t think
You should cross the street alone.
Not at your age.

Ashes to Ashes

I have the idea for a chorus, and then it turned into a bunch of related choruses, but I have no idea what the verses would be. I was thinking if I wrote it down, it might help. So far, it hasn’t.

Steve Earle has a song called “Ashes to Ashes” on his “Jerusalem” album, I heard another song that uses the phrase on KNON yesterday (Thank you, Texas Renegade Radio!), and it is a great phrase for a country song, as are many Biblical phrases.

I’m beginning to think you just call this “Ashes to Ashes” and just use all the choruses as they are, and declared them verses. I suppose they should be in alphabetical order, but that may be trying to hard.

Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust,
Before I could drive,
I had to be bussed.

Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust,
Yeast, water and flour
Make your daily crust.

Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust,
I dropped the coffee,
And how Daddy cussed.

Ashes to ashes, 
Dust to dust.
It’s fire for the wicked,
And joy for the just.

(Editor’s note: that is the only one someone might actually use. I really like it.)

Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust,
Out of all of my sins,
I’ve suffered most for my lust.

Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust,
If you want good wine,
You have to age the must.

Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust.
Hasn’t rained in forever,
So what caused all this rust?

Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust,
The last thing to break
Is another man’s trust.

<last chorus, only makes sense live, why do I hear Jim or Jason sing this?>

Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust.
There’s a woman down front
With a mighty fine bust.

NASCAR Blues

I’ve been going round in circles.
Just going with the flow.
I’ve seen that pretty girl before,
About thirty-four seconds ago.

I only stop for tires and gas,
I can’t even  visit the bar.
I really need a pee break,
But I just can’t leave the car.

I’m turning left forever,
I’m out here all alone,
I’ve gone three hundred miles,
But I’m no closer to my home.