Utah Phillips - The Timberbeast’s Lament lyrics
[Utah Phillips - The Timberbeast’s Lament lyrics]
I'm up the raft to the lumber camp
With a sick and aching head
I've blowed another winter's stake
And got the jims instead
It seems I'll never learn the truth
That's written plain as day
The more they try to welcome you
The more they make it pay
And it's "blanket-stiff" and "jungle-hound, "
And "pitch him out the door, "
"Howdy, Jack, old-timer, "
When you've got the price for more
Oh, tonight the boat is rocky
And I ain't got a bunk
Not a rare of cheering likker
Just a turkey full of junk
And it's all of my possessions
Is what I can carry 'round
I've blowed the rest on skid-roads
Of a hundred gyppo towns
And it's "lumberjack" and "timber-beast, "
And "Give these bums a ride, "
"Have one on the house, old boy, "
When you're stepping with the tide
And the chokers will be heavy
Just as heavy, just as cold
When the hooker gives the high ball
And we start to dig for gold
And I'll curse the skid-road up and down
With it's blatant, drunken tune
But then, of course, I'll up and make
Another trip next June
And it's "blanket-stiff" and "jungle-hound, "
And "pitch him out the door, "
"Howdy, Jack, old-timer, "
When you've got the price for more
With a sick and aching head
I've blowed another winter's stake
And got the jims instead
It seems I'll never learn the truth
That's written plain as day
The more they try to welcome you
The more they make it pay
And it's "blanket-stiff" and "jungle-hound, "
And "pitch him out the door, "
"Howdy, Jack, old-timer, "
When you've got the price for more
Oh, tonight the boat is rocky
And I ain't got a bunk
Not a rare of cheering likker
Just a turkey full of junk
And it's all of my possessions
Is what I can carry 'round
I've blowed the rest on skid-roads
Of a hundred gyppo towns
And it's "lumberjack" and "timber-beast, "
And "Give these bums a ride, "
"Have one on the house, old boy, "
When you're stepping with the tide
And the chokers will be heavy
Just as heavy, just as cold
When the hooker gives the high ball
And we start to dig for gold
And I'll curse the skid-road up and down
With it's blatant, drunken tune
But then, of course, I'll up and make
Another trip next June
And it's "blanket-stiff" and "jungle-hound, "
And "pitch him out the door, "
"Howdy, Jack, old-timer, "
When you've got the price for more