Barbara never demanded
what wouldn’t be given for free
she never expected impossible answers
from people like me

with her head held high
and her feet on the ground
she’d be the only one standing 
if the sky fell down

those were the days
when we didn’t look back at the past
when everything changed
and the changes were happening fast

when we needed someone 
to help us make sense
when we finally decided to
get off of the fence

there she was
right where we knew she would be
smarter than we were
that much was easy to see

she never argued
no negative reply
no hesitation
she’d just look you in the eye

try to remember
what the music was for
breaking the silence
kicking down the door

the door was wide open and
we walked right through
I never went back
and neither did you

Barbara knew how to
be who we thought we should be
“you’re trying too hard”
she would say to someone like me

then we would laugh
like it was so far out of sight
“you don’t need permission”
i knew she was right


© Jim Page, 2021
Whid-Ilse Music, BMI

Barbara

Ain’t That Somethin’ 



you ever hear about Blind LemonJefferson?
he had quite a style
people down in Texas in those days
they came for miles
to listen to the big man play
and they’d say

ain’t that somethin’

you ever hear Billie Holliday
when she was singin’ her song 
and everything was just right
right where it belonged
gardenias in her midnight hair 
she could take you anywhere

ain’t that somethin’

because if that ain’t somethin’
then somethin’ ain’t nothin’ at all

Lemon went to Chicago 
to try to make his name
froze out the sidewalk 
when the winter came
and Billie died broke
it all went up in smoke

ain’t that somethin’

you could spend your whole life 
living in the sound
one snap of the fingers 
and it all comes down
funny thing is after you’re gone
everybody’s singin’ your song

ain’t that somethin’

because if that ain’t somethin’
then somethin’ ain’t nothin’ at all

where can we go dancin’ 
where the music plays slow
everybody’s in a hurry 
like they got some place to go
and maybe they do, how would I know
but me, I’m just gonna let it go

because sometimes i hear you singing
when you don’t think i do
and it’s so pretty
i don’t know how to tell you 
so i just let it pass
like a picture on a pain of glass

ain’t that somethin’

because if that ain’t somethin’
then somethin’ ain’t nothin’ at all

© Jim Page, Whid-Isle Music, BMI
written in July, 2019

the Time is Now

Ain't that somethin'

in this beautiful country 
in which I’m living
there is a story that you’ll find
about a woman named 
Kikisoblu and how they 
called her Angeline

Angeline, Kikisoblu

she was the eldest daughter 
of Chief Seattle
she watched the world disappear
she said “you can build your
town around me
I’m not going anywhere”

Angeline, Kikisoblu

and it was the fine and expensive
wife of Doc Maynard
who defined her into something to be owned
when she said “you’re much too beautiful 
for such an ugly name
from on you will be known as”

Angeline, Kikisoblu

and they made her illegal
and all of her people 
and the children rocks behind her back
but Kikisoblu had som 
rocks of her own
and she threw them back

Angeline, Kikisoblu

landlord, landlord
look over your shoulder
careful who talkin' to
maybe somebody you stole 
something from
come to take it back from you

Angeline, Kikisoblu

so many thieves, for all that they 
have taken, they leave us with a 
world full of holes
but we have rocks, have heroes
and we will not do what we are told

Angeline, Kikisoblu

© Jim Page, Whid-Isle Music, BMI
written in July, 2019

Angeline

there are no words enough to say
how a world like this could die away
how reason falls on deaf ears
truth dissolves and disappears

and the clocks are counting
down to zero

they warned us years ago
people laughed it off, said “what do they know”
and we went our separate ways to find
a future facing the end of the line

and the clocks are counting
down to zero

now the weather stumbles, forests burn
past the point of no return 
corporation money thrives
while the refugees look for a place to survive

and the clocks are counting
down to zero

history walks the plank 
its eyes are flat, its face is blank 
the melting ice, the rising sea 
a redder sun than used to be

and the clocks are counting
down to zero

I know people who live in trees
who chain themselves to machineries
who face the judge's scornful stare
there is no shelter anywhere

and the clocks are counting
down to zero

I fear for children I see
and I don’t blame them when they look at me
as if to say “how could you 
I was depending on you”

and the clocks are counting
down to zero

I woke up in a sweat last night
so all alone I couldn’t face my fright
but I took a look around to see
millions more just like me 

and the clocks are counting
down to zero

resistance goes from hand to hand
for the air, the water, the people, the land
tomorrow is born from the seeds of today
and we are going that way

and the clocks are counting
down to zero

© Jim Page, Whid-Isle Music, BMI
written in July, 2019

Down to zero

she came into the shop one day when snow was coming down  
there weren’t a lot of customers, empty streets of town  
just an old woman with an old style toaster in her hand  
she laid it on the counter said “fix it if you can”

“well, I can,” says I, “it may take a day or 2 
 but I'll see what I can do and get it back to you”
she smiled a thank you smile, her eyes loving gaze  
“it's the only heat I have,” she said, “and it's been cold for days”

it’s the only heat I have, the only heat I have
she smiled a thank you smile, her eyes loving gaze  
“it's the only heat I have,” she said, “and it's been cold for days”

it’s a little coastal town by where the mountains come to rest
with the Irish Sea in front of me and the landward to the west
you can watch the sunlight slanting ‘neath the rolling patchwork sky
while family friends and strangers come and go to passing by

I'd sit in window afternoons and raise a toast to it all
the heights that I ascended to and how long it took to fall
I was used to my loneliness, didn’t think I’d ever be surprised 
until I met the young woman with the fire in her eyes

we could've been each other's lovers, it happened pretty fast
but she was running after something that was just beyond her grasp
and I’d misread the fire, I thought it was for me 
just goes to show what you don’t know is right where it supposed to be

she was the only heat I had, the only heat I had
she packed up all that fire and a little extra too
she was the only heat I had but she was only passing through 

so now I think about the wintertime that lays across the land
and I think about the old woman with the toaster in her hand
and I think about the girl who was only passing through
I hope she found what she was looking for, some people never do

she was the only heat i had, the only heat I had
she packed up all that fire, she had someplace to place to go
but i gave up feeling sorry for myself a long time ago

© Jim Page, Whid-Isle Music, BMI
written in July, 2019

Only Heat I Have

the rain in the morning, the bright afternoon
the days of our lives that are over too soon
the ripples of incident rise up and fall
there’s so much to know you can’t measure it all

away to the city somewhere there to find
a way out of this great big impossible bind
an old man with a dog, a woman in a chair
you never know what you’ll find till you get there

the eyes of tomorrow, the arrow of time
if you can’t take it with you, you leave behind 
like a jewel in the ocean awash in the brine
seen through the green tea of your mind

she said if “I could just get up away and fly
I’d write my name like a bird in the sky”
he said “the sky isn’t big enough for what you have to say
and you speak your own language anyway”

it was a good town for music and they found a little bar
where there were people in the mix, and whisky in the jar
where the music was medicine for the way that you feel
and maybe that’s how we all have to heal

the eyes of tomorrow, the arrow of time
if you can’t take it with you, you leave behind 
like a jewel in the ocean awash in the brine
seen through the green tea of your mind

some people have everything laid out on a platter 
some people don’t care and what does it matter
you face up to your burden or you turn tail and run
it’s the hand that you’re dealt and everyone gets one

you did a lot of drinking’ in your way back when
and one of these days you might do it again
but for now its the green tea that suits you just right
away in the morning, good luck and good night

the eyes of tomorrow, the arrow of time
if you can’t take it with you, you leave behind 
like a jewel in the ocean awash in the brine
seen through the green tea of your mind

© Jim Page, Whid-Isle Music, BMI
written in July, 2019

The green tea of your mind v2

first first time I rode the bus I was hitchin’ a ride
I was just a kid, flat broke
I got on board, sat down down and got warm
and across town we rode
it took me just about a block away
from exactly where I’s tryin’ to get
I said “thanks,” he said “see ya later”
and I still remember it yet

(chorus)
everybody rides the bus 
everybody, that’s us
everybody rides the bus
and everybody thanks the driver

I used to know exactly how much money I had
just by just lookin’ in the palm of my hand
twenty five pennies right down to the number
just like I had it all planned
and I’d sit up front with the driver
and we’d have ourselves a chat
smoke ‘em if you got ‘em when it’s just us two
we’d ride the line like that

(chorus)

Sam was a driver, and a juggler, and a clown
he just loved to make people laugh
he had a heart attack drivin’ on the viaduct
with no way to get off that path
he said “I need a little help at the wheel up here 
whatever little help you can give”
and all together they pulled it over
savin’ everybody’s life but his 

(chorus)

my friend Annette, she’s singin’ the blues
and she’s blowin’ harmonica too
but it’s hard to make a livin’ ‘round here these
in this six figure hullaballoo 
so now she’s drivin’ the bus five days out of seven
on the other two she grooves
the wheels and the wherewithal
that’s how the world moves

(chorus)

so if you want my autograph 
because you like the way I play the guitar
go ask a bus driver first
‘cause I’ll never get you that far

(chorus)

© Jim Page, Whid-Isle Music, BMI
written in July, 2019

Everybody thanks the driver

we live in a boomtown metropolis 
where success is a weapon of war
some people live in spectacular mansions
some people can’t afford to live 
        anywhere anymore

but Bezos has the money
he’s got all that money
more than a hundred billion dollars in his pants
way down in his pants

they built a shiny new temple to 
	themselves downtown
people genuflect as they pass
artificial sunlight and climate control
so they can colonize the jungle behind 
	a pain of glass

and because Bezos has the money
he’s got of all that money
clutching in the fingers of his hand
he’s a rich man

Amazon - you don’t have the right to use that name
Amazon - it is a nation and a people
Amazon - one of the world’s greatest rivers
Amazon - it is the lungs of the planet

and we can barely breath anymore

we gather together see what is to be done
we know the risks we take are perilous
we sharpen up our wits for the days ahead to come
somebody has to and it might as well be us

because we have the history
we know what we are doing
and we will not just disappear
we’re gonna stay right here

Amazon - you don’t have the right to use that name
Amazon - it is a nation and a people
Amazon - one of the world’s greatest rivers
Amazon - it is the lungs of the planet

and this is our planet
and it is not for sale

© Jim Page, Whid-Isle Music, BMI
written in July, 2019

amazon

Amadou Diallo
New York City, shot him 19 times
they get away with murder
it oughtta be a capital crime

after midnight 
four white cops from the elite corps
and Amadou Diallo
standing in his own front door

Amadou Diallo
he was a West African man
they said he looked suspicious
he had somethin’ in his hand

it was his wallet

they put the trial up in Albany
where the police have more friends 
they said it was a big mistake
and they’d never let it happen again

his mother cryin’ 
in a far off lonesome place
she came to see justice done
what she got was a slap in the face

gunslingers
walkin’ on the side of the law
some have a real short fuse
and that can be a fatal flaw

if you fit the description
they might want to see you dance
Amadou Diallo
he never had a chance

there’s a woman in the harbor
and she’s carrying a burning light
but it’s gettin’ hard to see it now
there’s gonna be a storm tonight

don’t you hear the thunder 				
don’t you feel that river run
someone ask a question, someone give an answer
somethin’s gotta be done

everybody’s talkin’
somethin’ on everybody’s mind
Amadou Diallo
it oughtta be a capital crime

© Jim Page, Whid-Isle Music, BMI
written in July, 2019

Amadou Diallo

the car’s gassed up and I’m ready to roll
I got one eye open for the highway patrol
I got the other eye open for the freeway sign
300 miles and I’m makin’ good time
my stomach’s growlin’ but my head’s been fed
I’m goin’ down to Eugene to see the Grateful Dead

tape deck’s blowin’ out a rattlin’ sound
in a sympathetic rhythm to the wheel-go-round
sports cars eat me up half-alive
this thing don’t do more than 55
but I can sleep in the back, it’s a roadside bed
I’m goin’ down to Eugene to see the Grateful Dead

everybody needs a little break sometimes
life gets too precise
put a little twist in the old straight line
and take some strange advise

I'm rollin’ into town, I’m all eyes and ears
look at all those people I ain’t seen in years
tripped out hipsters, rag and bone
young neophitic tie dye, cellular telephone
Sister Salina and her Uncle Fred
are goin’ down to Eugene to see the Grateful Dead

there’s 40 thousand people in a great big bowl
they’re all rockin’ to the rhythm of the roll
some are fallin’ in love, some are countin’ their money
some are spinnin’ in circles till their eyes get funny
ain’t it just about the way they said
I’m goin’ down to Eugene to see the Grateful Dead

I'm goin’ into the parkin’ lot, I might get lost
best place in the world to get your wires crossed
reality shatters when you leap and shout
some people go in and they never get out
ain’t never been the same since my senses fled
goin’ down to Eugene to see the Grateful Dead

everybody needs a little break sometimes
life gets too precise
put a little twist in the old straight line
and take some strange advise

now you can take my work week and throw it away
I’ll put a penny in a parkin’ meter any day
hang out the phone bill and let it fade
landlord’s gonna have to wait to get paid
I ain’t got no use for your overhead
I’m goin’ down to Eugene to see the Grateful Dead

my stomach’s growlin’ but my head’s been fed
I’m goin’ down to Eugene to see the Grateful Dead

Whose World Is This

Down to Eugene

I just came home with a head full of pictures
and I can’t say
they wake me up screamin’ in the middle of the night
make ’em go away

and I might start drinkin’ and I might not stop
I might cross over that line
I just want to get drunk and stay that way
all the time

I’m walkin’ around with a head full of pictures
and you don’t want to know
hangin’ right there in front of my face
everywhere I go

and I might start dopin’ and I might not stop
I might cross over that line
I just want to get numb and stay that way
all the time

nobody should have pictures in their head like I do
nobody should have pictures in their head like me
give ‘em back to the people that wanted this war
I don’t want to see ‘em anymore

I’m livin’ my life with a head full of pictures
from now on
and I can’t make love to the world anymore
‘cause they’re too strong

and I might get crazy and I might not stop
I might cross over that line
I might do somethin’ I might regret
sometime

who gave me this head full of pictures
well I think I know
some big shot sittin’ in a padded chair
where they monies all flow

and I might start thinkin’ and I might get smart
I might cross over that line
I might do somethin’ about it
sometime

nobody should have pictures in their head like I do
nobody should have pictures in their head like me
give ‘em back to the people that wanted this war
I don’t want to see ‘em anymore

Head Full Of Pictures

THE GREAT STONE WALL

if I could face the day the way the sunlight does
if I could rise with morning mist
then I would know the way that the water-fish swims
I could hold the lessons in my fist
we are dying, say the elders, and we don’t even know
this is only a temporary peace
we’re only waiting for the outcome to show
and the endings to be released

behind the silence of a great stone wall
in the howling of a new wilderness
beyond the distance of a great stone wall
it will change, it will change
it wasn’t always like this

I’ve been to places where the clocks don’t tick
and they laugh at the hard straight line
where history looks through baby’s eyes
and the light of the future is a good sign
some laws are made of barbed wire
and they lean to the privileged few
but reality shoots from behind a blade of grass
and its aim is true

behind the silence of a great stone wall
in the howling of a new wilderness
beyond the distance of a great stone wall
it will change, it will change
it wasn’t always like this

there’s a warfare fought in the bloodstream now
and truth is a thing to be praised
the lie gets mean and it hides in the marrow
and it waits for the stakes to be raised
and the dry rattle breath of exit time
is a wake-up call to your ear
and the feel of a fist at the end of your arm
gives the answer to your tears

behind the silence of a great stone wall
in the howling of a new wilderness
beyond the distance of a great stone wall
it will change, it will change
it wasn’t always like this

they tell me there’s light at the end of the tunnel
and sometimes I think I see
like a dissident glint in the eye of a needle
and the glitter of a soul set free
there’s a song they sing in the worst of times
to lift your spirit on the wings and fly
way on the other side of that storm cloud wall
dancing in the clear blue sky

behind the silence of a great stone wall
in the howling of a new wilderness
beyond the distance of a great stone wall
it will change, it will change
it wasn’t always like this

The Great Stone Wall

CLEAR BLUE SKY


funny how life goes, just when you think you know
it’ll hit you so sudden, you never even see the blow
and all the things you’ve been missin’, they come to crowd around
the way the shadows get longer when the sun goes down

and it’s only one drop of water in a clear blue sky
but it’s enough to say good-bye

see the minstrel on the sidewalk singin’, hear the cowboy song
see the old road traveler passin’, lookin’ for a place to belong
see the bird do an aerial dance, see the wing in the sunlight glisten
there’s music everywhere if you know how to listen

and it’s only one drop of water in a clear blue sky
but it’s enough to say good-bye

oh and all of us, we are more than we appear
all of that life, all of those years
standin’ on a beach head, where the land and the water part
and all that really matters is what you hold in your heart

oh friend of mine, how can I say
when your last great breath of life took my words away
laughin’ ‘cause we have to, laughin’ in the face of it all
somewhere forever, on the other side of that wall

and it’s only one drop of water in a clear blue sky
but it’s enough to say good-bye

Clear Blue Sky

I’ll tell you a story, make it clear as I can
about the far away troubles in the Holy Land
pictures of the children etched in your mind
buried in the rubble of the firing line

Jews and Arabs living one and the same
for a thousand years before the Zionists came
and they came like a river, they came like a flood
people calling it the Nakba 'cause that's what it was

oh Palestine
going home sometime

talk about the settlers, come from so far away
talk about the money from the USA
talk about the bullets made of plastic and lead
‘neath the shadow of a boot heel over your head

what do you do when they come to your home
and they tell you your land is no longer your own
do you let them take it or do you dare to resist
standing in the road with a rock in your fist

oh Palestine
going home sometime

we say we want peace, it’s a moral obligation
but there can be no peace in an occupation
we talk a good talk while we beat on our drums
after all these years look at what we have done

does it ever make you think about the friends we endorse
the armies of a general riding on an iron horse
does it ever make you wonder why it always seems to be
such an undemocratic version of democracy

oh Palestine
going home sometime

oh friend of mine
we will have peace sometime

Palestine

you know I was always the one
I could never stand idly by
and watch while the bullies beat up on the weaker ones
I had to do something to try
and I never gave up on people
that we could be better somehow
morality’s compass, you gave it to me
and I still follow it now

I couldn’t stop thinking about it
I couldn’t get it out of my mind
the pictures, the stories, the plight of the people
in occupied Palestine
how my government makes me complicit
with the political aid that they send
so I packed up my bags and I headed to Rafah
to work with the ISM

and I’d rather be dancing, dancing and falling in love
but if I just can just watch from a distance then what am I made of

Mama these people are so good to me
they treat me like one of their own
they feed me and see to my needs
and let me sleep in their homes
and Papa their lives are so hard
the gun shots every night
the road blocks, the strip searches, humiliations
Papa it just isn’t right

I can feel my privilege 
it’s there in my American face
I could wave my passport around like a flag
and I would be safe in this place
for these child soldiers of Israel
they look like the boys back home
and if it wasn’t for American money
they’d have to leave these people alone

and I’d rather be dancing, dancing to Pat Benatar
but somebody has to do somethin’ about it and here we are

the tractors are coming today
they’re like tanks with bulldozer blades
the name on the side says Caterpillar
that means they’re American made
well, I am American too
and I’ll be where everybody can see
so if they want to run over these houses today
they’re gonna have to run over me

it’s dangerous takin’ a stand
but it’s dangerous running away
sometimes you have to face up to the danger
there is just no other way
for there are such beautiful dreams
I have seen the eyes of a child
and if I can just make one little difference
then I think my life is worth while

and I’d rather be dancing, instead I’m saying goodbye
but we’ll meet again when it’s over, don’t cry

and I’d rather be dancing, and surely we’d all rather be
and one day we’ll dance in a world that’s peaceful and free

Unknown Album (8/11/2006 2:08:24 AM)

I'd Rather Be Dancing

The words "collateral damage" have come to mean dead civilians. This song puts those words in context.


Collateral Damage

you loved your sweet country for all of your life
like your mother and father before you
the land runs deep, so deep in your blood
your flesh and your bone and your sinews
descendants and ancestors, deep as it goes
a relative circle as far as your eye
it can all be undone in the flash of an instant
mechanical thunder that bruises the sky

(chorus)
goodbye to my relatives, all of my life
never again will I see
you won't have a name when they fly the big airplanes
collateral damage is all you will be

from a faraway place where the language is strange
they come with their angry machines
and the clouds rain a metal that hurts when it falls
and it shatters the ground, making everything scream
and the children run crippled, the old people hide
the babies are caught in the rubble debris
but the strangers don’t know you, you are only a number
and how can they respect what they can’t even see

(chorus)

a mother is more than a number to a baby
who now has to grow up on it’s own
and a grandfather blinded and crippled at his age
is more than just a statistical drone
all of these people are human beings
and deserve to be more than a footnote
this cynical language of killing is killing us
caught like a bone in humanity’s throat

(chorus)

so if you see a ghost in the lonely wind blowing
like shrapnel the sound of the rain
and it’s speaking a language you don’t understand
but you know what it means just the same
it’s too late for innocence, all of that’s over now
don’t say that you didn’t know
when they come to collect for the damages owed
the collateral may be your own

(chorus)

Collateral Damage

Jim Page - vocal and acoustic guitar
Mark Ettinger - acoustic bass
Barry Sless - Acoustic guitar


© Jim Page, Whid Isle Music, BMI
www.jimpage.net


My Old Home Town

in my old home town
where there was a winding stream
and we could walk for miles and miles
beside the hills so green

underneath the sky so blue
when I was in love with you
that’s the way the world went ‘round
in my old home town

and life goes on
and we sing the song
and the verses get better over time
and the roads we take
may make our hearts break
but you have your way and I have mine

and life goes on on
and we sing the song
and the chorus gets stronger over time
and our voices rise
as we harmonise
but you have your melody and I have mine

in my old home town
where there was a winding stream
and we could walk for miles and miles
beside the hills so green

underneath the sky so blue
when I was in love with you
that’s the way the world went ‘round
in my old home town

My Old Home Town

Jim Page - vocal and acoustic guitar
Mark Ettinger - acoustic bass
Orville Johnson - dobro
Jon Parry - fiddle

© Jim Page, Whid Isle Music, BMI


Same Train, Different Track


the day Merle Haggard died
I found a quiet place to hide
let the songs paint pictures in my mind
of a different place and time

pictures of a broke down oil town
where dust bowl memories abound
prison walls on either side
and a soul so deep and wide

same train, different track
you ride away, you don’t come back
one road to disappear
one song to sing it here

one jukebox for your time
sing me yours I’ll sing you mine
in some honkey tonk saloon
somebody’s always leavin’ soon

we all have songs that we can sing
just like the birds do in the spring
they will help us carry on
life’s hard enough without a song

same train, different track
you ride away, you don’t come back
one road to disappear
one song to sing it here

one jukebox for your time
sing me yours I’ll sing you mine
in some honkey tonk saloon
somebody’s always leavin’ soon

in some honkey tonk saloon
somebody’s always leavin’ too soon

Same Train, Different Track

ZURICH

you meet out on the midnight street
underneath the lamplight bright
outside the diamond jewelry windows
dazzling your sight tonight
and something in the blood that pounds
echoes in the hollow sound
and it all comes tumbling down
in Zurich

it’s taught among the rules of school
that all that glitters must be gold
and those who would not play the fool
must follow in the social mold
oh but the well to do
beautiful people in public view
ain’t got time for the likes of you
in Zurich

it all begins one morning fine
when the government money comes to town
a fortune goes to the opera
but not a penny trickles down
to the youth center in the middle of town
gonna have to close it down
can’t afford to have you hangin’ ‘round
in Zurich

all in a shattering instant then
upon that well remembered night
in a sudden clash with bricks and bottles
comes the most surprising sight
as fired with a smoldering heat
five thousand angry rebels meet
and break every window on that most beautiful street
in Zurich

anarchy on streets of gold
lights a-flashing, sirens wail
frightened eyes behind the windows
watch the young ones off to jail
soldiers in their shouldered ranks
armed with water canon tanks
and rubber bullets to protect the banks
of Zurich

battle lines are clearly drawn 
to show which side you’re standing on
those who sympathize in kind
wake up to find their jobs are gone
speaking up and speaking out
depends on what you talk about
the real right is coming out
in Zurich

how can such a trouble be
is this the writing on the wall
the pillars of society
give an anxious call
and orderly they call for peace
discipline to say the least
what we need is more police
in Zurich

from the gardens of Geneva
to the flowered streets of Amsterdam
everywhere I travel through
trouble passes hand to hand
in among these times that be
no future do they see
that’s the way it was explained to me
in Zurich

Zurich

Pig Alley

down along Pig Alley everything is in a fog
there is nothing moving anywhere except a hobo dog
with his nose stuck in a boiler that’s been busted for years
when from around a darkened corner a young cowboy appears
just got into town, it’s the Pike Street Kid
and the dog and him go off together down along the skid

Amelia was a pilot then until she came to land
among the barkers and the buskers by the newspaper stand
with everything she owned inside a lowly paper sack
on the road away from where she came and never going back
and when she heard about the wonder dog, heard about the Kid
she said “that’s where I’m going” and that’s just what she did 

there’s a white horse in the alley ‘neath a watercolor sky
and here comes father christmas in the middle of July
attending to the castaways and the winders of creel
he takes out his harmonica and plays a little reel
in honor of the clinic that was conjured into view
in the backroom of a tavern on first avenue
 
they’re sweeping out the hallways after last night’s demise
making room for further escapades arriving by surprise
corina with her boot lace and her bundle full of keys
she’s the one that you depend on when the locks begin to freeze 
and the seance and the magic show, the mongers of delight
anything is possible if you look at it right

from out of nowhere Pagliacci comes to take a bow
in a top hat of balloons, you wouldn’t recognize him now
juggling a load of empty boxes as he fumbles for his keys
but they slip right through his fingers, he falls cursing to his knees
a little monk comes running with a license to intrude
“watch your language, buddy, god is in a bad mood!”

“no bosses, gods, nor masters,” says the Pagliacci clown
he’s just been in the bookstore and he couldn’t put it down
“no angels in the armories, we sacked them years ago
the skies are great democracies for all the winds to blow”
and the poor befuddled monk is left to wander in a daze
disappearing in a whimsey that lingers on for days

on the beach below the pilings in a well pitched camp
there lives Gentleman Jim with his band of trusty tramps
living almost entirely on dumb luck
still the gentleman’s got enough put aside to buy them a pickup truck
and the sun is shining brightly as down the road they drive
some of the very few to ever get out alive

there’s a pig below the clock that tells a fraction of the time
and the bricks are made of burgundy, there are no straight lines
as down along the avenue they used to call the Skid
you can see the wonder dog, Amelia and the Kid
disappearing in the distance as the sunset comes to fall
leaving us to wonder were they ever here at all

down along pig alley, down among the weathered walls
the stairways and the cafes and the flower stalls
in the courtyard by the oyster bar and Angeline’s tree
there was a wayfaring stranger and a ship that went to sea
and I met my love in springtime when I was playing my guitar
we still go there sometimes to find out where we are

Pig Alley

Jim Page was named by Seattle Metropolitan Magazine as “One Of The 50 Most Influential Musicians In Seattle History.”  He has recorded 21 albums over the course of a 40-plus year career and written a mountain of songs.  Originally a California native Page has called Seattle and the Pacific Northwest “home” since 1971.  His songs have been covered by The Doobie Brothers, Christy Moore, Dick Gaughan, Michael Hedges, and Roy Bailey.  He has toured in 13 countries including the US, Canada, Ireland, the UK, most of northern Europe, and Taiwan.  Renowned lyricist Robert Hunter says, “If Jim Page ain’t the bastard son of Woody Guthrie I’m T-Bone Walker,” and Bonnie Raitt says, “I'm a longtime admirer.”  The late Utah Phillips said it best: “If you’re ever going to get the message, this is the messenger to get it from.” 


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