Ok, I know I’m showing my age here. For those of you who don’t know what I’m talking about, records were those curious vinyl items used to play music before mp3s and before CDs, back when dinosaurs roamed the earth. When I was a little kid, my father came home with a record player for me. It was a previously loved item he bought from Ross’s junk store in the Junction. It was one of those record players that required you to place a penny or perhaps even two pennies on top of the tone arm to weigh down the needle so it didn’t skip over grooves in the record. He also brought me my first ever record. I remember it clearly. It was a 78 from the 40s called Walking the Floor Over You by Earnest Tubb. Here’s Mr. Tubb performing the tune live.
I still remember the lyrics. I listened to that record over and over. Maybe that’s why I still have such an affection for old time country music.
The next record I added to what would eventually become a bit of a collection was by Burl Ives. It was a 331/3 recording. I don’t recall the title of it, but it had on it Mr. Ives version of the great hobo tune, Big Rock Candy Mountain.
I think that song dates back to the 20’s. It may have been penned by Harry McClintock AKA Haywire Mac. The song was all about hobo paradise, where you go after you board the Wabash Cannonball I guess.
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
There’s a land that’s fair and bright
Where the handouts grow on bushes
And you sleep out ev’ry night
Where the boxcars are all empty
And the sun shines ev’ry day
Oh, I’m bound to go where there ain’t no snow
Where the rain don’t fall and the wind don’t blow
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains.
Oh, the buzzin’ of the bees in the cigarette trees
‘Round the whiskey fountains
Where the lemonade springs and the bluebird sings
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
You never change your socks
And little streams of alcohol
Come a-tricklin’ down the rocks
The hobos there are friendly
And their fires all burn bright
There’s a lake of stew …and whiskey, too
You can paddle all around ’em in a big canoe
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains.
Oh, the buzzin’ of the bees in the cigarette trees
‘Round the whiskey fountains
Where the lemonade springs and the bluebird sings
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
I’ve also heard a version that talks about “a jerk that invented work” Har!
