Story

Blues

Love Songs

© Copyright 1976 Peter Lloyd

Take me to Louisville, driver, I got the fare
I love a woman livin’ somewhere ‘round there  
I was gonna marry her, but I got up tight 
Watching her dance on a Saturday night
Watching her dance on a Saturday night  

Stole into Louisville A-W-O-L
With two pints of Echo, the whiskey from hell 
Stashed ‘em a Greyhound rental box down there 
When a woman came up with long, curly hair
A woman came up with long, curly hair  

She took a package from the box next to mine
I knew that our futures would soon intertwine 
She told me my birthday and the day I would die 
I saw a spark in the dark of her eye
I saw a spark in the dark of her eye  

Bought her a Pepsi in the station restaurant 
She said, “I’m able to provide what you want 
I’ve got some money, we could travel in style 
You wait right here. I’ll be back in a while
You wait right here. I’ll be back in a while  

I waited one hour and I waited for two
Got sorta nervous wonderin’ what she would do 
Walked ‘round the lobby one more time, then I thought 
If I don’t go, I’ll bound to get caught
If I don’t go, I’ll bound to get caught  

Took out a bottle and decided to go
‘Cross to the burlesque, continuous show 
Found me a seat and settled down for the night 
Guess who I saw steppin’ out in the light
Guess who I saw steppin’ out in the light  

Opened my Echo as she started to dance 
Finished it right when she took off her pants  
Dirty old men in there kept shoutin’ for more 
I stood up to fight, ended up on the floor
I stood up to fight, ended up on the floor  

Police in Louisville took me back to Fort Knox 
Who knows what Greyhound ever did with my box 
Don’t know her number and I don’t know her name 
Might never know, but drive just the same
Might never know, but drive just the same  

And take me to Louisville, driver, I got the fare 
Find me that woman with long, curly hair 
This time I’ll marry her and I won’t lose my mind 
Cuz this time I will leave my Echo behind
This time I will leave my Echo behind
This time I will leave my Echo behind

Leave My Echo Behind

©Copyright 1973, 2015 Peter Lloyd

You can take my shoes, you can drink my soup
I no longer lock my door at night
Here the moon comes up when the sun goes down
And the mountains roll ‘round the thunder clouds
While the river, she winds her way behind

It’s like beautiful, beautiful music
Mellowed in the Appalachian way
Folks come and go, but these mountains kow
That you take a bluegrass tune down to your grave

When Tom Gentry died, I cried and cried
Then one night I heard his voice below the ground
I said, “Oh, Tom, you make such a sweet, bright sound.
Can you tell me, my old partner, what have you found?”
And he sang these words I’m singing to you

It’s like beautiful, beautiful music
Mellowed in the Appalachian way
Folks come and go, but these mountains know
That you take a bluegrass tune down to your grave

When my stories are all told and my bones are cold
And all that’s left is an empty rocking chair
Won’t you wrap me up and carry me down
Cover me over with that sweet, black ground        
And pick a bluegrass tune above my head

It’s like beautiful, beautiful music
Mellowed in the Appalachian way
Folks come and go, but these mountains know
That you take a bluegrass tune down to your grave

Folks come and they go
But these mountains stay right here and they know
That you can take a bluegrass tune down to your grave
Yes, you take them bluegrass tunes down to your grave

Bluegrass Music

© Copyright 1972, 2002 by Peter Lloyd

Two o’clock when I lay down, three o’clock when I rise
I can’t get no sleep with all these tears in my eyes
I walk around, baby, and I don’t talk too much
How am I supposed to operate with my heart on a crutch? 
It ain’t easy when your lover leave you all alone

My woman, she’s so mean she done move across the street
I sit here on my front porch and watch the company that she keep 
I can still remember when she used to love to make me smile
I guess it’s somebody else’s turn to carry the ball for a while
It ain’t easy when your lover leave you all alone

Her love was all I had, I suppose it made me feel to proud
Had a love for that low-life woman that the law just don’t allow
I would join the Salvation Army, ain’t no mountain I wouldn’t climb 
I’d learn to sing like Frank Sinatra if she’d love me one more time 
It ain’t easy when your lover leave you all alone
It ain’t easy when your lover leave you all alone

I take my handle in my hand and I pass around the pan
I feel like I just don’t fit and I fear I never can
See me sitting here about to give up my Holy Ghost?
That’s no way for a man to feel, but that’s the way I feel 
most of the time 
It ain’t easy when your lover leave you all alone

Two candles burn in my chest. One is black and the other one’s white
One tells me I ought to live and the other says, “Go give up and die.”
So I throw three pennies on the floor, one is tails 
and the other one’s heads 
I’ll never know what the third one said, cuz it rolled underneath the bed 
It ain’t easy when your lover leave you all alone
It ain’t easy when your lover leave you all alone

Front Porch Blues

© Copyright 2022 Peter Lloyd

When they discovered me, they gave a name
Some sort of underworld god
They told me planet life meant fortune and fame
I found that was all a façade

Expecting nothing but an orbital blast
I joined my eight planet peers
So what if one revolution would last
Two-hundred-forty-eight years


Once I had some status, life was great
Outer limits were mine
Way beyond old Neptune, number eight
Back when I was planet nine

I still cut an orit far and wide
Orbiting Sun’s outer line 
Now without my status or my pride
Back when I was planet nine


Me and five moons, in Kuiper’s belt
So what if our footprint was small
Ice and rock too damn cold to melt
Our orbit’s still the biggest of all

Remember who they called a Roman god
Before they made me resign
Before they found my appellation flawed
Back when I was planet nine

Back When I Was Planet Nine

The Canadian plains, they stretch and they strain
A thousand miles north of Alpena
Cold, like a curse, drives a ghost-colored hearse
And drones like a Latin novena

Buffalo Jill leaves her calf on the hill
Too broken to run any longer
The pack, standing by, howls, “No time to cry
The weaker make food for the stronger"

When you come back home, run my finger-comb through your hair
Rest my weary head on your strong, young shoulder
When you comin' home? Waitin' for an omen, or what?
Don't forget, ain't nobody ain't growin' older 
Ain't nobody ain't growin' older

The fireman knows how to handle his hose
His truck's painted red for a reason
But I know the way out back 'round the bay
Where the big 'uns are runnin' this season

When you come back home, run my finger-comb through your hair
Rest my weary head on your strong, young shoulder
When you comin' home? Waitin' for an omen, or what?
Don't forget, ain't nobody ain't growin' older 
Ain't nobody ain't growin' older

From a bucket of swords come diminished-fifth chords
That must make you feel quite clever
Yes, time comes in spates, and I know Tom Waits
But nobody waits forever

When you come back home, run my finger-comb through your hair
Rest my weary head on your strong, young shoulder
When you comin' home? Waitin' for an omen, or what?
Don't forget, ain't nobody ain't growin' older 
Ain't nobody ain't growin' older 
Ain't nobody ain't growin' older

Words © Copyright 2014, 2025 Peter Lloyd
Music by Suno.com AI

Winter Solstice

Words and music © Copyright 1969, 1999, 2015 Peter Lloyd

A long time ago, I took a History of Broadcasting course taught by Jack Rouse at the University of Cincinnati College Conservatory of Music. Jack spent a good deal of time on the story of the great inventor Thomas Edison.

I went home after the Edison lesson and wrote the song. Most of it is true. Including the part about "Mary Had a Little Lamb" and Tom's thaumatrope, praxinoscope, and phenakistoscope.

Every time you lay down in bed
You got no control what comes into your head
I lay down the other night alongside of my cat
Thinking about the weather and things like that
When a dream took me back a year or two
I woke up with the Tom Edison Blues

‘Tain’t enough to create. ‘Snot enough to invent
You wanna do it right. Get your name in lights.  Gotta imp-a-lement

I was up in my lab near the break of day
When a woman walked in and said, “Hey, let’s play!”
I said, “I’ve gotta make a light bulb before dawn
She said, “Come on, Tom, let me turn you on.”
“I’ve been up all night, I can’t quit now.” 
She said, “Gimme a chance, I’ll show you how.”
I said, “History’s waiting, I can’t clown around.” 
She said, “Don’t look now, but your pants just fell down. 
 Sure enough, I was standing there naked
No way to hide it, no way to fake it.
So I ran behind my phonograph
Played “Mary Had a Little Lamb” to make her laugh.
She said, “Too bad, Mary, if you dig sheep
But I like inventors, cuz they never sleep.”

‘Tain’t enough to create. ‘Snot enough to invent
You wanna do it right. Get your name in lights.  Gotta imp-a-lement

Well, your dreams are pretty free and you can do what you please
So I tried to change myself into somebody mean.
I said, “Look, I’m your pa, I’m gonna give you a spanking.” 
She said,  “You look more like Benjamin Franklin.”
So I made like the devil with a whip and a sword
But she said I reminded her of Henry Ford.
Then I tried to make her fear for her very life
I said, “Settle down, you’re gonna wake up my wife.” 
She said, “Tom, while you’re up here, leaving her all alone
She’s out with some ding-a-ling inventing telephones.”

‘Tain’t enough to create. ‘Snot enough to invent
You wanna do it right. Get your name in lights.  Gotta imp-a-lement

Then I tried to distract her with my thomatrope
My phantasmagorica, and my prakcinescope.
When she paid no attention to my pharaktoscope
I knew my motion-picture camera was my only hope
So I rolled my first film about the factory
And all the workers trudging out as tired as can be
But the sun came up and filled my lab with light
I said, “I guess I’ll knock off till tomorrow night.”
She said, “Tom, you see that light bulb in your pocket? 
 I can make it shine because I got the socket.”

‘Tain’t enough to create. ‘Snot enough to invent
You wanna do it right. Get your name in lights.  Gotta imp-a-lement

Then phone rang, woke me up, to my surprise
I was kissing my cat and it was scratching out my eyes 
I answered the phone, mad as hell. 
I said, “Where’s my wife, Alexander Graham Bell?”

‘Tain’t enough to create. ‘Snot enough to invent
You wanna do it right. Get your name in lights.  Gotta imp-a-lement

See http://peterlloyd.com/music/cds/infah/index.shtml for all I'm Not From Around Here credits.

Thomas Edison Blues

Words and music © Copyright 1995, 2015 Victor Harrison and Peter Lloyd

Can you hear the bankers holler, “You’re leveraged to the hilt.”
You’ve bet bottom dollar just to get your business built
There’s little satisfaction and you’re under lots of stress
You toss and turn and wonder, how’d I get into this mess?

You got the cash-flow blues
You got the cash-flow blues
No remedy’s been found 
That can turn that flow around
You got the  cash-flow blues

Your accountant tells you gently, you can’t service all your debt
Your operation’s suffering, your boys are upset
Your hair’s gone gray from worry, your body’s lying limp 
You used to be so macho, but you’re feeling like a wimp

You got the cash-flow blues
You got the cash-flow blues
No remedy’s been found 
That can lift you off the ground
Boy, you got the  cash-flow blues

The IRS is after you for always paying late
Your bills are piling higher than the bridge called Golden Gate
Your wife’s about to leave you, cuz you’re never ever home
Your kids can never talk to you, you’re always on the phone

You got the cash-flow blues
You got the cash-flow blues
No remedy’s been found 
That can turn that flow around
You got the  cash-flow blues

Can you hear the bankers holler, “You’re leveraged to the hilt.”
You’ve bet bottom dollar just to get your business built
There’s little satisfaction and you’re under lots of stress
You toss and turn and wonder, how’d I get into this mess?

You got the cash-flow blues
You got the cash-flow blues
No remedy’s been found 
That can turn that flow around
You got the  cash-flow blues

Cash Flow Blues

Words and music © Copyright 2013 Peter Lloyd

Nine Riders and me on a mountain road 
Sammiched side by side. All a car can hold 
When we all breathe in, it’s a lighter load 

Six riders and me near a mountain town 
Singing country songs. Moonshine all around 
Hear a distant howl. Three cannot be found 

Three riders and me round a village square 
Cruisin to a tune. Lotsa room to spare 
So we rock and roll till we lose a pair 

One rider and me in a rusty car
Oh, I can’t believe how we drove this far 
But we’re gonna stay just the way we are

Nine Riders and Me

A folk track with a melancholy vibe. This song is about a prisoner's longing for his beloved.

Credits: Written & Produced by: Peter Lloyd, sung by Ben Lawson

Connect with Peter Lloyd at music@peterlloyd.com
#how long is your love? #singer-songwriter #NewMusic #PeterLloyd

Lyrics:

Words and music © Copyright by Peter Lloyd 1999

Early every morning the prisoner opens his eyes 
Turns his pillow over and tells himself he never cries 
But words fall from the radio, a memory fits like a glove
He thinks of you and wonders, How long is your love?

Days still dawn without you to carry his dreams on your voice
The walls around him echo the curses of derelict choice
Today he’s building barricades his predators can’t rise above
To bide his time and wonder, How long is your love?

He knows your love is strong enough,  abusing it—his crime
He hopes your love is long enough to stand the strains of time

Night gives little shelter should hungry eyes meet in the dark 
When they trade their secrets, they tremble without a remark 
Tonight he carves a makeshift knife just in case push comes to shove
He hides his pride and wonders, How long is your love?

He knows your love is strong enough,  abusing it—his crime
He hopes your love is long enough to stand the strains of time

Early every morning the prisoner opens his eyes 
Turns his pillow over and tells himself love never dies 
But words fall from the radio, a memory fits like a glove
He thinks of you and wonders, How long is your love?

Yes, he thinks of you and wonders, How long is your love?

How Long Is Your Love

A folk track with a loving vibe. This song is about a love challenged by swinging moods. 

Credits: Written & Produced by: Peter Lloyd, Caitlin Ayers, Jason Ayers

Connect with Peter Lloyd at music@peterlloyd.com
#sometimes (sherry's song) #singer-songwriter #NewMusic #PeterLloyd

Lyrics:
Performed and produced by Caitlin and Jason Ayers
Words and music © Copyright 1969, 2015 Peter Lloyd

Sometimes I'm up. Sometimes I'm down
In this world there could not be a smile if it were not for the frown
Every 24 hours, if there's a night there's a daytime, too
No matter what shape my face may take
I'm always in love with you

Sometimes I'm caught so deep in thought
You may think that there's no room for you around my troubled mind
A love is hard to find, but it's worth it when you know it's true
No matter what shape my face may take
I'm always in love with you

Your love gave me a purpose
You love showed me the way
Your love gave my heart a song to sing
I'm gonna sing it every day

Just because I'm low sometimes, don't let me go
If you're looking for the perfect love, you'll be looking till your dying day
Just remember, Darling, when I'm feeling blue
No matter what shape my face may take
I'm always in love with you

Your love gave me a purpose
You love showed me the way
Your love gave my heart a song to sing
I'm gonna sing it every day

Sometimes I'm up. Sometimes I'm down
In this world there could not be a smile if it were not for the frown
Every 24 hours, if there's a night there's a daytime, too
No matter what shape my face may take
I'm always in love with you
In love with you
In love with you

Sometimes (Sherry's Song)

Words and music by Ben Lawson. Ben sent his version of this song around to friends and invited them to re-do it. So I did. The image features Dash of the Ayers family.

I don't know why I think like a dog
But I'll run all day, yeah, like a dog
If runnings what I gotta do
I'll do it for you

I can't explain why I'm hungry all the time
But I go without food, yeah, I'll be fine
If starvings what I gotta do
I'll starve for you

I don't understand why you make me wait outside
When all I wanna do is be by your side
If waitings what I gotta do
I'll do it for you

If waitings what I gotta do
I'll wait for you
If that's what it's coming to
That's what I'll do

Laika Dawg

A rockabilly track with a melancholy vibe. This song is about a lover's unexplained loss of his sweetheart.

Credits: Written & Produced by: Peter Lloyd, Star Devil Trio

Connect with Peter Lloyd at music@peterlloyd.com
#i miss marie #singer-songwriter #NewMusic #PeterLloyd

Lyrics:

Words and music by Peter Lloyd © Copyright 2006, 2015 Peter Lloyd

Look outside my door, sun is shinin' bright 
What's the sun good for? Might as well be night
Ain't it plain to see I miss Marie

Left without a trace, why I'll never know 
Still I see her face everywhere I go 
Where can she be I miss Marie

I sit here reminiscin’ 'bout the huggin' and the kissin' 
She swore would never end
Nobody wants to listen but a part of me is missin' 
And I need some time to mend

Now it's time to go to the Town Hall Dance Me 
I'm layin' low, I don't stand a chance 
Everyone will see I miss Marie

I sit here reminiscin 'bout the huggin' and the kissin' 
She swore would never end
Nobody wants to listen but a part of me is missin' 
So why should I pretend?

Look inside my door. What an awful sight 
Lying on the floor, I'll be here all night
Ain’t it plain to see, I miss Marie

Well, it's plain to me I miss Marie

I Miss Marie

Tuscaloosa, Alabama  
Billy Birdsong called it home 
But an omen soon would warn him 
"Cross the Urals you must roam" 
Saw Natasha Borashchenka  
In the movie "Goldeneye" 
Heard her sing to her intended 
"Cross the Urals you must fly" 

Billy Birdsong's heart surrendered  
In Natasha's spell he lay 
On an app called Duolingo 
Practiced Russian every day 
Saved his money, sold possessions  
Vowed he'd pay most any price 
Found a student language conference 
In the land of snow and ice

Six thousand miles 
Bet tomorrow on a song
How could a boy from Tuscaloosa 
Alabama, not go wrong?

In the town of Nazarovo 
On Siberia's dead floor
Students gathered, far behind them 
Nearly every foreign shore 
Billy Birdsong speaking Russian  
In a crowded co-ed dorm 
Met a hundred Borashchenkas 
Had to keep each other warm 

Three hundred teens 
Drinking vodka all night long
How could a boy from Tuscaloosa 
Alabama, not go wrong? 

Tuscaloosa, Alabama  
Billy Birdsong won't be back 
Now he's raising little Birdsongs 
In a Nazarovo shack 

Dark, Russian tea 
Piping from a samovar
How could a boy from Tuscaloosa 
Alabama, come so far? 

All the way across the Urals 
Living like a Russian Tsar?

© Copyright 2017 Peter Lloyd
Music by Suno.com AI

Billy Birdsong (Across the Urals)

© Copyright 2018 Peter Lloyd

Dick and Jane were my best friends
When I learned how to read
Played in perfect harmony
Thrived in thought and deed 
But as they grew it happened
No longer did they click
Jane became a better Jane
Dick remained a dick

Jane stands strong and lovely now
Wise beyond her years
Whenever someone needs a hand
It’s Jane who volunteers
Never judges anyone 
Forgives and then forgets
Nothing she holds dearer than
Life without regrets

Dick still loves loud farting sounds
And savors dirty jokes
Drives a two-ton S-U-V
Calls climate change a hoax
Judges women solely by 
The contour of their buns
Nothing he hold dearer than 
His Bible and his guns

See Dick run. Run, Dick, run.
See Jane run. Oh, what fun!

Jane commands respect at work
She lets her people steer
Dick rules with an iron fist
Drives his team with fear
If you had to work with one
I know who you’d pick
Jane became a better Jane
Dick remained a dick

See Dick run. Run, Dick, run.
See Jane run. Oh, what fun!

The moral of this story
Not too hard to find 
The more you try to run ahead
The more you fall behind
If you have a penis
No need to be a prick
Act a little more like Jane
Don’t be such a dick

Act a little more like Jane
Don’t be such a dick

Dick and Jane

Songwriter since 1966. Can't believe I still have to write protest songs. Prefer writing love songs and songs of praise for stand-up women and men, parodies, lyrical nonsense, blues and adaptations.