Letra de «Starkville City Jail»
"Let me get this microphone down here, near my guitar. (Laughs) Let it all hang out! I thought my guitar was out of tune there at first. Sorry son of... It is out of tune. Is that right? Terry, is that right? Well, you tune the son of a bitch."
(Laughter, applause)
"We got all kinds of songs, here's one called "A Boy Named Sue." You wanna hear that one? You wanna hear "A Boy Named Sue?" I do too. I'm anxious to hear it. I don't know how the hell it's going to sound! I'm anxious to hear it. Does that block your camera view there, is that all right? Can I leave it there? I'm gonna put it there, then. Where the hell is my guitar? Oh, here it is..."
"Sorry to say that Luther passed away seven months ago, after being with us thirteen years, Luther Perkins. And the fella who's playing the guitar with us now is doing a wonderful job, but of course, nobody can really replace Luther. How about one big cheer for Luther Perkins?"
(applause)
"Hey, I had a song called "San Quentin that I was gonna do. Where's my - hey, in my kit back there where I got all my dope-I mean, where I got all my things - (laughter). There's a little red notebook back there, would one of the guards bring it to me? Bring me the red notebook and I will... Hey, that briefcase back there of mine, that's got all the songs I stole in it? Tellin' it like it is, ain't I?"
"Wrote a song yesterday. I tried, it takes a lot of imagination sometimes to write a song and put something into it where somebody else can understand it and feel it. We've been in several prisons; San Quentin, Folsom Prison and the Starkville, Mississippi jail, the El Paso jail, and... You wouldn't believe it, one night I got in the Starkville, Mississippi jail for picking flowers. I was walking down the street, I may sing that one for you a little bit later on, I was walking down the street - what? Excuse me, I couldn't hear you, I was talking. I was walking down the street and, you know, going to get me some cigarettes or something, about 2:00 in the morning after a show, I think it was. Anyway, I reached down to pick up a dandelion here and a daisy here, and this car pulls up, said "get it the hell in here, boy, what are you doing?" I said, "I'm just picking flowers." Well, $36 for picking flowers and a night in jail. God damn, you can't hardly win, can you? Damn! No telling what they'd do if you pull an apple or something."
(applause) "Well, I'd like to do this song for all of you guys at San Quentin to kind of get back at whoever you want to out there. In my case, I'd like to get back at the fella down in Starkville, Mississippi who still has my $36."
Well, I left my motel room down at the Starkville Motel The town had gone to sleep and I was feeling fairly well I strolled along the sidewalk 'neath the sweet magnolia trees I was whistling, picking flowers, swaying in the southern breeze
I found myself surrounded, one policeman said, "That's him Come along, wild flower child, don't you know that it's two AM They're bound to get you 'cause they got a curfew And you go to the Starkville City jail
Well, they threw me in the car and started driving into town I said: "What the hell did I do?" He said: "Shut up and sit down" Well, they emptied out my pockets, took my pills and guitar picks I said: "Wait, my name is..." "Awe shut up." Well, I sure was in a fix
The sergeant put me in a cell, then he went home for the night I said: "Come back here, you so and so; I ain't being treated right Well, they're bound to get you 'cause they got a curfew And you go to the Starkville City Jail
I started pacing back and forth, and now and then I'd yell And kick my forty dollar shoes against the steel floor of my cell I'd walk awhile and kick awhile, and all night nobody came Then I sadly remembered that they didn't even take my name At 8 a.m. they let me out. I said: "Gimme them things of mine! They gave me a sneer and a guitar pick, and a yellow dandelion They're bound to get you 'cause they got a curfew And you go to the Starkville City Jail
Go to the Starkville City Jail
(Laughter, applause)
"We got all kinds of songs, here's one called "A Boy Named Sue." You wanna hear that one? You wanna hear "A Boy Named Sue?" I do too. I'm anxious to hear it. I don't know how the hell it's going to sound! I'm anxious to hear it. Does that block your camera view there, is that all right? Can I leave it there? I'm gonna put it there, then. Where the hell is my guitar? Oh, here it is..."
"Sorry to say that Luther passed away seven months ago, after being with us thirteen years, Luther Perkins. And the fella who's playing the guitar with us now is doing a wonderful job, but of course, nobody can really replace Luther. How about one big cheer for Luther Perkins?"
(applause)
"Hey, I had a song called "San Quentin that I was gonna do. Where's my - hey, in my kit back there where I got all my dope-I mean, where I got all my things - (laughter). There's a little red notebook back there, would one of the guards bring it to me? Bring me the red notebook and I will... Hey, that briefcase back there of mine, that's got all the songs I stole in it? Tellin' it like it is, ain't I?"
"Wrote a song yesterday. I tried, it takes a lot of imagination sometimes to write a song and put something into it where somebody else can understand it and feel it. We've been in several prisons; San Quentin, Folsom Prison and the Starkville, Mississippi jail, the El Paso jail, and... You wouldn't believe it, one night I got in the Starkville, Mississippi jail for picking flowers. I was walking down the street, I may sing that one for you a little bit later on, I was walking down the street - what? Excuse me, I couldn't hear you, I was talking. I was walking down the street and, you know, going to get me some cigarettes or something, about 2:00 in the morning after a show, I think it was. Anyway, I reached down to pick up a dandelion here and a daisy here, and this car pulls up, said "get it the hell in here, boy, what are you doing?" I said, "I'm just picking flowers." Well, $36 for picking flowers and a night in jail. God damn, you can't hardly win, can you? Damn! No telling what they'd do if you pull an apple or something."
(applause) "Well, I'd like to do this song for all of you guys at San Quentin to kind of get back at whoever you want to out there. In my case, I'd like to get back at the fella down in Starkville, Mississippi who still has my $36."
Well, I left my motel room down at the Starkville Motel The town had gone to sleep and I was feeling fairly well I strolled along the sidewalk 'neath the sweet magnolia trees I was whistling, picking flowers, swaying in the southern breeze
I found myself surrounded, one policeman said, "That's him Come along, wild flower child, don't you know that it's two AM They're bound to get you 'cause they got a curfew And you go to the Starkville City jail
Well, they threw me in the car and started driving into town I said: "What the hell did I do?" He said: "Shut up and sit down" Well, they emptied out my pockets, took my pills and guitar picks I said: "Wait, my name is..." "Awe shut up." Well, I sure was in a fix
The sergeant put me in a cell, then he went home for the night I said: "Come back here, you so and so; I ain't being treated right Well, they're bound to get you 'cause they got a curfew And you go to the Starkville City Jail
I started pacing back and forth, and now and then I'd yell And kick my forty dollar shoes against the steel floor of my cell I'd walk awhile and kick awhile, and all night nobody came Then I sadly remembered that they didn't even take my name At 8 a.m. they let me out. I said: "Gimme them things of mine! They gave me a sneer and a guitar pick, and a yellow dandelion They're bound to get you 'cause they got a curfew And you go to the Starkville City Jail
Go to the Starkville City Jail
