misc - "big rock candy mountain2-crd"


Subject: Cowpie Newsletter Submission

Peter Lurvey requested this song. These lyrics are
different from the ones posted in this week's
newsletter, although I remember my mom singing a
similar version when I was a kid. I think these are
the lyrics from the "O Brother, Where Art Thou?"
soundtrack, or pretty close, although I may be missing
a verse or have them in a different order.

The Big Rock Candy Mountains
Key of D, Starting pitch: A

One (D)evening, (A7) as the (D) sun went (A7)down
And the (D) jungle (A7) fires were (D)burning,
Down the track came a (A7) hobo, (D) hamming,
And he said, "Boys, (A7)I'm not (D) turning.
I'm (G)headed for a (D) land that's (G) far a-(D)way
Be-(G)side the crystal (A)fountains.
I'll (D)see you (A7) all this (D)coming (A7) fall
In the (D)Big Rock (A7) Candy (D)Mountain.

In the (D)Big Rock Candy Mountains
There's a (G)land that's fair and (D)bright,
Where the (G)handouts grow on (D)bushes
And you (G)sleep out ev'ry (A)night,
Where the (D)boxcars are all empty,
And the (G) sun shines ev'ry (D)day
O the (G)birds and the (D)bees
And the (G)cigarette (D)trees,
The (G)rock rye (D) springs
Where the (G) whang doodle (D) sings
In the (A7)Big Rock Candy (D)Mountains.

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains,
All the cops have wooden legs,
And the bulldogs all have rubber teeth
And the hens lay soft-boiled eggs.
The farmer's trees are full of fruit
And the barns are full of hay.
O I'm bound to go, where there ain't no snow,
Where the sleet don't fall and the wind don't blow
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains.

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains,
You never change your socks,
And the little streams of alkyhol
Come trickling down the rocks.
The shacks all have to tip their hats
And the railroad bulls are blind,
There's a lake of stew and of whiskey, too,
And you can paddle all around in a big canoe
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains.

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains,
The jails are made of tin,
And you can bust right out again,
As soon as they put you in.
There ain't no shorthandled shovels
No axes, saws or picks-
I'm a-going to stay, where you sleep all day
Where they boiled in oil the inventor of toil
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains.