ATF: Arrivals and Departures

This weekly series will include as many of my all-time favorite (ATF) tunes as I can get my grubby little hands on (so to speak).  Now, each one included in each edition will have some connection with the other—albeit only as a figment of my imagination, but they will not be numbered.  For I just cannot bring myself to rate some higher than others.  So, this will not be a countdown, but if you are enjoying them as much as I do, it won’t matter.  Besides, with no countdown, this could go on forever and ever!  Oh, and despite the fact that there is absolutely no way that your musical tastes can be as exquisite as mine, I welcome any suggestions you might dare to make.  For I am, after all, quite magnanimous by nature.

Link: [Arlo Guthrie]

The City of New Orleans

Arlo Guthrie

Ridin’ on

The City of New Orleans

Illinois Central

Monday mornin’ rail

Fifteen cars

And fifteen restless riders

Three conductors

And twenty-five sacks of mail

All along the southbound odyssey

The train pulls out of Kankakee

And rolls along past houses

Farms and fields

Passin’ trains that have no name

Freight yards full of old black men

And the graveyards of the rusted automobile

Good mornin’

America

How are ya

Say

Don’t you know me

I’m your native son

I’m the train

They call

The City of New Orleans

I’ll be gone five hundred miles

When the day is done

Dealin’ card games

With the old men

In the club car

Penny a point

Ain’t no one keepin’ score

Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle

Feel the wheels

Rumblin’ ‘neath the floor

And the sons of Pullman porters

And the sons of engineers

Ride their fathers’ magic carpets

Made of steel

Mothers with their babes asleep

Rockin’ to the gentle beat

And the rhythm of the rails

Is all they feel

Good mornin’

America

How are ya

Say

Don’t you know me

I’m your native son

I’m the train

They call

The City of New Orleans

I’ll be gone five hundred miles

When the day is done

Night time

On the City of New Orleans

Changin’ cars

In Memphis Tennessee

Halfway home

We’ll be there by mornin’

Through the Mississippi darkness

Rollin’ down to the sea

But all the towns and people seem

To fade into a bad dream

And the steel rail

Still ain’t heard the news

The conductor sings his songs again

The passengers will please refrain

This train’s got the disappearin’

Railroad blues

Good night

America

How are ya

Say

Don’t you know me

I’m your native son

I’m the train

They call

The City of New Orleans

I’ll be gone five hundred miles

When the day is done

Link: [The Animals]

The House of the Rising Sun

The Animals

There is

A house

In New Orleans

They call

The Risin’

Sun

And it's been

The ruin

Of many a poor boy

And God

I know

I'm one

My mother

Was a tailor

Sewed

My new blue jeans

My father was

A gamblin' man

Down

In

New Orleans

Now

The only thing

A gambler needs

Is a suitcase

And a trunk

And the only time

He'll be satisfied

Is when

He's on

A drunk

Oh Mother

Tell your children

Not to do

What I

Have done

Spend your lives

In sin

And misery

In the House

Of the Risin’

Sun

Well

I’ve got one foot

On the platform

The other foot

On the train

I'm goin’ back

To New Orleans

To wear

That ball and chain

Well

There is

A house

In New Orleans

They call

The Risin’

Sun

And it’s been

The ruin

Of many a poor boy

And God

I know

I'm one

Lyrics From: [eLyrics.net]

Please Also Visit:

[Arlynda Lea]

[FishHawk Droppings]

[The Tribulation Times Herald-Exhorter]

Come Monday...My Uncle Alice

Come Monday…” is a weekly series that will involve a review of, or commentary about,  websites, movies, documentaries, television shows, sports, music, and whatever else may tickle my fancy at the time.  Be assured that these reviews will be generally positive, as in accordance to the Jimmy Buffett song “Come Monday.”  This is subject to change, however.  In fact, I would be most derelict in my duties to neglect going on a rant every once in a while.  For rants promote change, and change can be good—right?  Therefore, since good is generally considered as being a positive force in 99.3% of the parallel universes that I am aware of, even a rant could be considered as being something positive, and a genuine hissy-fit would be even better (so I’m told).

Alas, I actually wanted to publish this piece on The Trib, but it was pointed out to me that it would not be worth antagonizing the Puritans sulking in the shadows over there.  So, since they avoid coming over here as much as most of you-all avoid going over there (I swear that there has not been a new case of the plague reported on either site in years) you have the distinct honor of being the first to hear that I really do love my Uncle Alice.

In all fairness to the Puritans, there is a danger to having too much fun with the dark side [Jude 1:8-10], but since it should be quite obvious that there is very little truly serious about Uncle Alice’s act, I am fairly sure that he will not be inspiring anyone to start worshipping the devil anytime soon, nor has he ever done so before.  Besides, our Heavenly Father is well able to prove that the devil and his demons do indeed exist, but of what value is His counsel to those who do not want to believe it?

Now, just for the sake of clarity, do not confuse Uncle Alice with Uncle Albert.  The following should help with that, and if I have already contributed to some head-spinning, please accept that I am so sorry.

Uncle Albert

Paul McCartney

We're so sorry

Uncle Albert

We're so sorry if we caused you any pain

We're so sorry

Uncle Albert

But there's no one left at home

And I believe I'm gonna rain

We're so sorry

But we haven't heard a thing all day

We're so sorry

Uncle Albert

But if anything should happen

We'll be sure to give a ring

We're so sorry

Uncle Albert

But we haven't done a bloody thing all day

We're so sorry

Uncle Albert

But the kettle's on the boil

And we're so easily called away

Hands across the water

Water

Heads across the sky

Hands across the water

Water

Heads across the sky

Admiral Halsey notified me

He had to have a berth

Or he couldn't get to sea

I had another look

And I had a cup of tea

And a butter pie

Butter pie

Couldn't put it in something else

So I poured it in the pie

All right

Hands across the water

Water

Heads across the sky

Hands across the water

Water

Heads across the sky

Live a little

Be a gypsy

Get around

Get around

Get your feet up off the ground

Live a little

Get around

Live a little

Be a gypsy

Get around

Get around

Get your feet up off the ground

Live a little

Get around

Hands across the water

Water

Heads across the sky

Hands across the water

Water

Heads across the sky

If you still have your doubts about just how sorry I am, you can go ask another Alice.  That is, if you are willing to chase her down the rabbit hole.

White Rabbit

Jefferson Airplane

One pill makes you larger

And one pill makes you small

And the ones that mother gives you

Don't do anything at all

Go ask Alice

When she's ten feet tall

And if you go chasing rabbits

And you know you're going to fall

Tell 'em a hookah-smoking caterpillar

Has given you the call

Call Alice

When she was just small

When the men on the chessboard

Get up and tell you where to go

And you've just had some kind of mushroom

And your mind is moving low

Go ask Alice

I think she'll know

When logic

And proportion

Have fallen sloppy dead

And the White Knight is talking backwards

And the Red Queen's off with her head

Remember

What the dormouse said

Feed your head

Feed your head

To be quite honest about it, I am not sure if the entrance to Alice’s rabbit hole is anywhere near her restaurant, but it might not hurt to take a look.  On the other hand, the simple fact of me being too lazy to edit and include the lyrics to Arlo Guthrie’s song about it should be all of the proof anyone should ever need to determine just how sorry I truly am.  Nonetheless, I would highly recommend you taking the time to give the song a listen.

Please Also Visit:

[FishHawk Droppings]

and

[The TribulationTimes Herald-Exhorter]

Arlo Guthrie vs. Willie Nelson

 Link: [Arlo Guthrie]

Link: [On YouTube]

City of New Orleans

Arlo Guthrie

Ridin’ on

The City of New Orleans

Illinois Central

Monday morning rail

Fifteen cars

And fifteen restless riders

Three conductors

And twenty-five sacks of mail

All along the southbound odyssey

The train pulls out of Kankakee

And rolls along past houses farms and fields

Passin’ trains that have no name

Freight yards full of old black men

And the graveyards of the rusted automobile

Good mornin’ America

How are ya

Say

Don’t you know me

I’m your native son

I’m the train they call

The City of New Orleans

I’ll be gone five hundred miles

When the day is done

Dealin’ card games

With the old men in the club car

Penny a point

Ain’t no one keepin’ score

Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle

Feel the wheels

Rumblin’ ‘neath the floor

And the sons of Pullman porters

And the sons of engineers

Ride their fathers’ magic carpets

Made of steel

Mothers with their babes asleep

Rockin’ to the gentle beat

And the rhythm of the rails

Is all they feel

Good mornin’ America

How are ya

Say

Don’t you know me

I’m your native son

I’m the train they call

The City of New Orleans

I’ll be gone five hundred miles

When the day is done

Night time

On the City of New Orleans

Changin’ cars

In Memphis Tennessee

Halfway home

We’ll be there by mornin’

Through the Mississippi darkness

Rollin’ down to the sea

But all the towns and people seem

To fade into a bad dream

And the steel rail

Still ain’t heard the news

The conductor sings his songs again

The passengers will please refrain

This train’s got the disappearin’

Railroad blues

Good night America

How are ya

Say

Don’t you know me

I’m your native son

I’m the train they call

The City of New Orleans

I’ll be gone five hundred miles

When the day is done

Link: [Willie Nelson]

Link: [On YouTube]

City of New Orleans

Willie Nelson

Ridin’ on

The City of New Orleans

Illinois Central

Monday morning rail

Fifteen cars

And fifteen restless riders

Three conductors

And twenty-five sacks of mail

All along the southbound odyssey

The train pulls out of Kankakee

And rolls along past houses farms and fields

Passin’ trains that have no name

And freight yards full of old black men

And the graveyards of the rusted automobile

Good mornin’ America

How are ya

Say

Don’t you know me

I’m your native son

I’m the train they call

The City of New Orleans

And I’ll be gone five hundred miles

When the day is done

Dealin’ card games

With the old men in the club car

Penny a point

Ain’t no one keepin’ score

Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle

Feel the wheels

Rumblin’ ‘neath the floor

And the sons of Pullman porters

And the sons of engineers

Ride their fathers’ magic carpets

Made of steel

Mothers with their babes asleep

Rockin’ to the gentle beat

And the rhythm of the rails

Is all they feel

Good mornin’ America

How are ya

Say

Don’t you know me

I’m your native son

I’m the train they call

The City of New Orleans

I’ll be gone five hundred miles

When the day is done

Night time on

The City of New Orleans

Changin’ cars

In Memphis Tennessee

Halfway home

We’ll be there by mornin’

Through the Mississippi darkness

Rollin’ down to the sea

But all the towns and people seem

To fade into a bad dream

And the steel rail

Still ain’t heard the news

The conductor sings his songs again

The passengers will please refrain

This train has got

The disappearin’ railroad blues

Good night America

How are ya

Say

Don’t you know me

I’m your native son

I’m the train they call

The City of New Orleans

I’ll be gone five hundred miles

When the day is done

Lyrics From: [elyrics.net]

Please Also Visit:

[FishHawk Droppings]

and

[The Tribulation Times Herald-Exhorter]

TWO FOR TUESDAY

Link: [Arlo Guthrie]

Not every song that will be featured here will be what is generally considered as being “Christian” in the eyes of this world. For some will be anguished cries from the pit of despair, and others will be quite obviously ferverent rants of rebellion. Nonetheless, be assured that they will all be of our Heavenly Father (in one way or another) and I hope that you have been given ears to hear the message.

Link: [On YouTube]

Alice’s Restaurant

Arlo Guthrie

You can get anything you want

At Alice’s Restaurant

You can get anything you want

At Alice’s Restaurant

Walk right in

It’s around the back

Just a half a mile

From the railroad track

You can get anything you want

At Alice’s Restaurant

NOTE: Be assured that there is more to this song than just what I have included here. For he is not repeating the same chorus for 22 minutes, give or take several seconds. Ah, but the rest of it is a narrative, which I figured was too much to include. Granted, it may have more to do with laziness than anything else, but I’m going to stick with not typing it all out as being an editorial decision. Nonetheless, I hope you will want to listen to it all. If you haven’t heard it before, you are in for a real treat, and if you have heard it before, you already know what a treat this “song” is.

Link: [On YouTube]

When A Soldier Makes It Home

Arlo Guthrie

Halfway around the world tonight

In a strange and foreign land

A soldier packs his memories

As he leaves Afghanistan

And back home they don’t know too much

There’s just no way to tell

I guess you had to be there

For to know that war was hell

And there won’t be any victory parades

For those that’s coming back

They’ll fly them in at midnight

And unload the body sacks

And the living will be walking down

A long and lonely road

Because nobody seems to care these days

When a soldier makes it home

They’ll say it wasn’t easy

Just another job well done

As the government in Kabul falls

To the sounds of rebel guns

And the faces of the comrades

Being blown out of the sky

Leaves you bitter with the feeling

That they didn’t have to die

And there won’t be any victory parades

For those that’s coming back

They’ll fly them in at midnight

And unload the body sacks

And the living will be walking down

A long and lonely road

Because nobody seems to care these days

When a soldier makes it home

Halfway around the world tonight

In a strange and foreign land

A soldier unpacks memories

That he saved from Vietnam

Back home they didn’t know too much

There was just no way to tell

I guess you had to be there

For to know that war was Hell

And there wasn’t any big parades

For those that made it back

They flew them in at midnight

And unloaded all the sacks

And the living were left walking down

A long and lonely road

Because nobody seemed to care back then

When a soldier made it home

The night is coming quickly

And the stars are on their way

As I stare into the evening

Looking for the words to say

That I saw the lonely soldier

Just a boy that’s far from home

And I saw that I was just like him

While upon this earth I roam

And there may not be any big parades

If I ever make it back

As I come home undercover

Through a world that can’t keep track

Of the heroes who have fallen

Let alone the ones who won’t

Which is why nobody seems to care

When a soldier makes it home

Lyrics From: [elyrics.net]

Please Also Visit:

[FishHawk Droppings]

and

[The Tribulation Times Herald-Exhorter]