Bobby Darin lived like a man on fire. With so much talent
and so little time to nurture it, he had to do it all as quickly as he could.
And he succeeded brilliantly, entertaining us all for too short a time, as he
went from night club performer, to dancer, folk singer and composer.
This song really caught my attention when I was about 13 or
so. It seems that there was a prison farm in Arkansas where the inmates were
disappearing at an alarming rate. When all was said and done I believe there were
over 100 bodies found beneath the grounds of the prison farm.
The movie “Cool Hand Luke” had just come out the year
before, in 1967, just before Mr. Darin went into seclusion in a trailer in Big Sur after RFK's assassination (he was present that night) to write songs and re-invent himself yet again.
The subject matter in this song may seem more suited to Bob Dylan than the usually shark skin suited Bobby Darin, but watch and listen. Check out those dance moves. And notice that in introducing Mr. Darin, the usually flippant Dean Martin doesn’t have a whole lot to say…
The subject matter in this song may seem more suited to Bob Dylan than the usually shark skin suited Bobby Darin, but watch and listen. Check out those dance moves. And notice that in introducing Mr. Darin, the usually flippant Dean Martin doesn’t have a whole lot to say…
To hear the original studio recording of this record, hit
this link; and be sure to follow the bass line.
“Long Line Rider” by Bobby Darin
Wettin' it down,
boss
Wet it down
Wipin' it off,
boss
Wipe it off
Doin' ten to
twenty hard
Swingin' twelve pounds
in the yard
Every day
Every day
I came in with a
group of twenty
There ain't left
but half as many
In the clay
In the clay
Long line rider,
turn away
There's a farm in
Arkansas
Got some secrets
in its floor
In decay
In decay
You can tell where
they're at
Nothin' grows, the
ground is flat
Where they lay
Where they lay
Long line rider,
turn away
All the records
show so clear
Not a single man
was here
Anyway
Anyway
That's the tale
the warden tells
As he counts his
empty shells
By the day
By the day
Hey, long line
rider, turn away
Someone screams
investigate
Excuse me sir,
it's a little late
Let us pray
Let us pray
This kinda thing
can't happen here
'Specially not in
an election year
Outta my way
Outta my way
Hey, long line
rider, turn away
There's a funny
taste in the air
Big bulldozers
everywhere
Diggin' clay
Turnin' clay
And the ground
coughs up some roots
Wearin' denim
shirts and boots
Haul 'em away
Haul 'em away
Hey, long line
rider, turn away
Well, I heard a
brother moan
"Why they plowin'
up my home?"
In this way
In this way
I said,
"Buddy, shake your gloom
They're just here
to make more room
In the clay"
USA
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