The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #85261 Message #1597024
Posted By: Joe Offer
04-Nov-05 - 12:17 AM
Thread Name: DTStudy: Songs of Jean Ritchie
Subject: DTStudy: The L&N Don't Stop Here Anymore
THE L & N DON'T STOP HERE ANYMORE
(Jean Ritchie)
Oh, when I was a curly-headed baby
My daddy set me down upon his knee
Said, Son, you go to school and learn your letters
Don't be no dusty miner like me
For I was born and raised at the mouth of the Hazard Holler
Coal cars roaring and a tumbling past my door
Now they're standing rusty, rolling empty
And the L & N don't stop here any more
I used to think my daddy was a black man
With scrip enough to buy the company store
But now he goes downtown with empty pockets
And his face as white as a February snow
Last night I dreamt I went down to the office
To get my payday like I done before
Them old cudsy vines had covered up the doorway
And there was trees and grass, well agrowing right thru the floor
I never thought I'd live to love the coal dust
Never thought I'd pray to hear the tipple roar
But, Lord, how I wish that grass could change to money
Them greenbacks fill my pockets once more
@train @mining
Copyright Geordie Music Publishing, Inc.
recorded by Guy Carawan
filename[ L&NNOMOR
TUNE FILE: LNNOMORE
CLICK TO PLAY
SOF
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Corrected Version;
THE L and N DON'T STOP HERE ANYMORE
(Jean Ritchie)
O when I was a curly-headed baby,
My daddy set me down upon his knee;
Said, "Son, you go to school and learn your letters,
Don't be no dusty miner like me.
CHORUS
For I was born and raised at the mouth of the Hazard Holler,
Coal cars roarin' and a rumblin' past my door;
Now they're standin' rusty, rollin' empty,
And the L and N don't stop here any more.
I used to think my daddy was a black man
With scrip enough to buy the company store,
But now he goes downtown with empty pockets
And his face as white as February snow.
Last night I dreamt I went down to the office
To get my payday like I done before;
Them old cudsy-vines had covered up the doorway
And there was trees and grass, well a-growin' right through the floor.
I never thought I'd live to love the coal dust;
Never thought I'd pray to hear the tipple roar,
But, Lord, how I wish that grass could change to money,
Them greenbacks fill my pockets once more.
© 1963, 1971, Geordie Music Publishing.
from Jean Ritchie - Celebration of Life: her songs...her poems (1971, Geordie Music Publishing)