Well, Frankie Lee and Judas Priest, they were the best of friends.
So when Frankie Lee needed MONEY one day,
Judas quickly pulled out a roll of tens
And placed them on a foot stool just above the cloudy plain,
Saying, "Take your pick, Frankie boy, my loss will be your gain."

------------------------------------------
I don't care how many letters they sent;
The morning came and the morning went.
Pick up your MONEY and pack up your tent;
You ain't goin' nowhere.

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If you've got the MONEY, honey, I've got the time.
We'll go honky-tonkin', and we'll have a time.

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Everybody's got a hungry heart
Lay down your MONEY and you play your part

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You never give me your MONEY.
You only give me your funny papers.

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Saving up your MONEY for a rainy day,
Giving all your clothes to charity.
Last night the wife said "Oh golly, when you're dead,
You don't take nothing with you but your soul. Think!"

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I've got sunshine on a cloudy day.
When it's cold outside, I've got the month of May.

I guess you'd say, "What can make me feel this way?"
My girl. Talkin' bout my girl.

I've got so much honey; the bees envy me.
I've got a sweeter song than the birds in the trees.

I don't need no MONEY, fortune, or fame.
I've got all the riches one man can claim.

------------------------------------------
Back with my wife in Tennessee, one day she said to me,
"Virgil, quick come see! There goes Robert E. Lee."
Now, I don't mind choppin' wood,
And I don't care if the MONEY's no good;
You take what you need and you leave the rest,
But they should never have taken the very best.
The night they drove old Dixie down.....

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MONEY Cannot Buy Your Soul (trad.)

"Oh, what is this that I can see,
With icy hands takin' hold of me?"
"It's Death, I come to get the soul,
To leave the body, leave it cold."

"Oh Death, oh Death. How can it be,
That I must come and go with thee?
Oh Death, oh Death. How can it be?
I'm unprepared, unprepared, for eternity."

"You fix my eyes so I can't see.
You lock my jaw so I can't talk.
You stretch my limbs; you're makin' me cold;
You robbin' the body of the soul."

"Oh yes, I've come to get the soul;
to leave the body, leave it cold;
To let the flesh drop from the frame;
The earth & worms both have their claim."

"You can have my gold; you can have my land,
If you will move your icy hand."
"Don't want your land; don't want your gold.
MONEY cannot buy your soul."

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MONEY Is King, by Growling Tiger

If a man have MONEY today, people do not care if he have kokobe.
If a man have MONEY today, people do not care if he have kokobe.
He can commit murder and get off free, and live in the governor's company.
But if you are poor, people will tell you "Shoo", and a dog is better than you.

If you have MONEY to buy in a store, the boss will shake your hand at the door.
He will call the clerk to take down everything: whiskey, cloth, earring and diamond ring.
He will send them to your home on a motor bike. You can pay the bills whenever you like.
And not a soul will ask you a thing. They know very well that MONEY is king.

A man with a collar and tie and waist-coat, ask the Chinee-man to trust him after accra and float.
"Me no trust-am", bawl out the Chinee-man, "You better move-am from me frying pan.
You college man, me no know A B C. You want-am accra gie-am penny."
And the worms start to jump in the man's belly, and he cry out, "A dog is better than me!"

A dog can walk about and take up bone, fowl head, stale bread, fish-tail and pone.
It it's a good breed and not too wild, some people will take it and mind as a child.
But when a hungry man goes out to beg, they will set a bull-dog behind his leg.
Twenty policemen may chock him down, too. You see where a dog is better than you.

If you have MONEY and things going nice, any woman would call you honey and spice.
But if you can't give her a dress or a new pair of shoes, she'll say she have no uses for you.
When you try to caress her, she will tell you "Stop! I can't carry love in the Chinee shop."
And most of you will agree that it's true, if you haven't MONEY, dog is better than you.

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Ballad Of Omie Wise (trad., John McCutcheon version)

I'll tell you the history of little Omie Wise,
How she was deluded by John Lewis's lies.

He told her to meet him at the Hellington Spring,
He'd bring here some MONEY and other fine things.

But when he did meet her at the Hellington Spring,
He'd brought her no MONEY nor other fine things.

He said, "Climb up behind me and away we will go.
We'll ride and be married where the old folks won't know."

She climbed up behind him, and away they did go,
Down through the lonesome valley where the deep waters flow.

"Get down from behind me and I'll tell you my mind.
My mind is to drown you and leave you behind."

She threw her arms around him; she was so surprised.
"Oh, let me go," begging, "if I can't be your bride."

He hugged her an' he kissed her an' he looked all around.
He threw her in deep waters where he knew that she would drown.

Then he mounted his pony and away he did go,
Back through the lonesome valley where the deep waters flow.

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Blue Ridge Mountain Refugee, by Si Kahn

I'm workin' in a factory, thinkin' of how it feels
To be bringin' home good MONEY like my daddy never seen;
But a feelin' follows after me, like a hound-dog at my heels.
And I know that I'll never see my mountain home again.

Cause they say that I can't go back again,
Never sit and talk among my childhood friends,
Never live among my neighbors and my kin,
No, I'll never see my mountain home again.

Down by the railway station, in the early afternoon,
You can see them with their bundles that are all done up in twine.
They hear the whistle from the south, and they're sayin' their good-by's,
And they say that they'll come back again;
But they're leavin' for all time.

Cincinnati, Baltimore, Chicago, and Detroit;
You can see us by the thousands, with our husbands and our wives.
You wonder what we're doin' here, so far from our mountain homes.
Well, we're Blue Ridge Mountain refugees,
And we're fighting for our lives.

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A Picture From Life's Other Side (trad., Woody Guthrie's version)

In the world's mighty gallery of pictures,
There's scenes that're painted from life--
Scenes of youth and of beauty, scenes of hardships and strife,
Scenes of wealth and of plenty,
Old age and a blushing young bride--
To hang on the wall; but the saddest of all is
A picture from life's other side.

A picture from life's other side,
Somebody who's fell by the way;
And a light has gone out with the tide
That might have been happy some day.
Some poor mother at home is watching and waiting alone,
Longing to hear from her loved ones so dear,
That's a picture from life's other side.

Now, the first scene is one of two brothers,
Their paths in life differently lived.
One lived in luxury and riches, and the other one begged for his bread.
One night they met on the highway. "Your MONEY or life, sir," one cried.
Then, with his knife, took his own brother's life.
That's a picture from life's other side.

Now the next scene is down by the river: a heart-broken mother and babe.
In the harbor light glare, see them shiver. How candid no one will say.
Once she was a true woman, somebody's darling and pride.
God help her, she leaps. There's no one to weep.
That's a picture from life's other side.

------------------------------------------
Deportee, by Woody Guthrie

The crops are all in and the peaches are rotting,
The oranges piled in their creosoted dumps.
You're flying them back to that Mexican border,
To pay all their MONEY to wade back again.

Good-bye to my Juan, good-bye, Rosalita.
Adios, mes amigos, Jesus y Maria.
You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane.
All they will call you will be "deportee".

My father's own father, he waded that river.
They took all the MONEY he made in his life.
My brothers and sisters came working the fruit trees;
They rode in the trucks till they took down and died.

Some of us are illegal and some are not wanted.
Our work contract's out and we have to move on.
Six hundred miles to that Mexican border.
They chase us like outlaws, like rustlers, like thieves.

We died in your hills, we died in your deserts.
We died in your valleys and died on your plains.
We died 'neath your trees and we died in your bushes,
Both sides of the river, we died just the same.

The sky plane caught fire over Los Gatos canyon.
A fireball of lightning, and shook all our hills.
Who are these dear friends, all scattered like dry leaves?
The radio says they are just deportees.

Is this the best way we can grow our big orchards?
Is this the best way we can grow our good fruit?
To fall like dry leaves, to rot on the topsoil;
And be called by no name except deportees.

------------------------------------------
There Was a Time, by Tom Pacheco

There was a time when rivers ran clear.
The birds in the wind were all you could hear.
The air was so sweet, in the morning sunshine.
Each day was a treat. There was a time.

There was a time when love would endure.
You'd marry for life, for rich or for poor.
And no matter how steep the cliffs you might climb,
you'd share every leap. There was a time.

There was a time when people would share
whatever they had with friends who were there.
They'd sit on the grass, on an evening sublime,
and drink from one glass. There was a time.

There was a time they measured your worth
on what good you did while you were on Earth.
Before MONEY ruled, and success was defined
by celebrity fools. There was a time.

There was a time your job was secure.
The plant would not move to Kuala Lumpur.
The unions were strong, your benefits fine.
You felt you belonged. There was a time.

There was a time when school was a place
where knowledge was gained and classrooms were safe.
The playgrounds were fun, young voices in rhyme,
with no fear of guns. There was a time.

There was a time you'd pick up your mail.
The letters were ships, the stamps were the sails.
And you never had fear of what you might find
hidden inside. There was a time.

There was a time when people could trust
the ones we'd elect to watch over us.
They'd never pull strings, they'd not take a dime
from corporate kings. There was a time.

There was a time when people would stand
and fight for their rights. They'd march hand in hand.
Before the big sleep, well planned and designed,
turned lions to sheep. There was a time.

There was a time, not long in the past,
when everything changed too much and too fast.
I stand by the sea and treasure its whine.
Its waves remind me there once was a time.
There once was a time.

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Turn Of The Century, by ? (Nitty Gritty Dirt Band)

There'll be, flyin' boats, and condos with moats,
Cultivated oceans, floatin' cities in the sky.
Livin' underneath our bubble, no more toil and trouble,
Singin' bout that sweet old by and by.

Hallelujah! I can't wait to see it.
Hallelujah! Come on and go with me.
Let me show you, just how great life's gonna be
At the turn, the turn of the century.

We'll all have lots of MONEY that we won't have to spend.
You'll be given everything, and everyone's your friend.
Hangin' out together, in picture-perfect weather;
This time 'round, the party never ends.

We won't have no TV preachers, to ask how much we gave.
We won't need no TV preachers, see, by then we'll all be saved.
No more fightin' for our country, no child will go hungry.
We'll be smilin', from the cradle to the grave.

------------------------------------------
The Outcast, by Tom Russell

Oh gather 'round me people, lend and ear now if you please
Your promised land was settled, by bastards, drunks and thieves
Excuse me if it offends you, but I'm the worst of all of these
Yes I destroyed the family tree, I am the Outcast

I'm your inbred second cousin who was kept inside a shed
I'm the cross-eyed little stutterer who always wet the bed
I'm yer queer Uncle Harry, yer retarded Uncle Fred
I'm the one they left for dead, I am The Outcast

I've embarrassed folks at weddings, birthdays and at wakes
I'm the cur who passed out face down in your anniversary cake
I'm the black sheep, the Philanderer, the Louse, the Souse, the Rake
The remittance man, the Snake - the bloody outcast

Oh forebear with yer pity, my functions very plain
We've come here from the Olde World, and we've gone a touch insane
On a social scale ya need a foil to bear the family stain
I am the Joker in yer game; I am The Outcast

Oh the black man and the Indian, the Chinaman the Jew
They built yer friggin railroad and they picked yer cotton too
They washed yer dirty laundry and they tied yer children's shoes
They got a right to sing the blues, 'cause they were outcasts!

Now we worship politicians, as if they all were saints
Put their faces on our MONEY, pillow slips and plates
We should love this land for what it is, and not for what it ain't
Oh their game is fueled by hate, the hate of outcasts!

The Norwegians hate the Swedish and the Swedes they hate the Finns
The Finns they hate the Russians and the Russians hate the Yids
Spicks and Wops and Greasers; Kikes and Spades and Ginny Hens
Hatred's blowin' in the wind, 10 million outcasts

Oh beautiful for spacious skies and amber waves of grain
Grain distilled to make the rye that pickled old Tom Paine
Old Georgie built the White house with slaves who died in pain
But Georgies quarries made the gain, from blood of outcasts!

Move in a little closer now, the side show must begin
History will repeat itself: again, again, again!
On the immigration totem pole the low man never wins
But competition ain't a sin! God help the outcast!

So step right up ya pilgrims, the trains a leavin' soon
We got acreage out in Iowa for the likes of folks like you
A quarter section in a flood plain; forty acres and a mule
Sign right here ya bloody fools; Welcome ye Outcasts!

------------------------------------------
Gallo Del Cielo, by Tom Russell

Carlos Zaragosa left his home in Casas Grandes, when the moon was full;
No MONEY in his pocket, just a locket of his sister framed in gold.
He rode into El Sweco, stole a rooster called El Gallo del Cielo.
Then he swam the Rio Grande, with that fighter nestled deep beneath his arm.

El Gallo del Cielo was a rooster born in Heaven, so the legends say.
His wings they had been broken, he had one eye rollin' crazy in his head.
He'd fought a hundred fights, and the legends say that one night near El Sweco
They fought Cielo seven times, and seven times he left brave roosters dead.

Ola my Teresa, I am thinking of you now in San Antonio.
I have twenty-seven dollars, and the good luck of your picture framed in gold.
Tonight I'll put it all on the fighting spurs of Gallo del Cielo.
And then I'll return to buy the land that Villa stole from father long ago.

Outside of San Diego, in the onion fields of Paco Monteverde,
The pride of San Diego lay sleeping on a fancy bed of silk;
And they laughed when Zaragosa pulled the one-eyed del Cielo from beneath his coat.
But they cried when Zaragosa walked away with a thousand dollar bill.

Ola my Teresa, I am thinking of you now in Santa Barbara.
I have 15 hundred dollars, and the good luck of your picture framed in gold.
Tonight I'll put it all on the fighting spurs of Gallo del Cielo.
And then I'll return to buy the land that Villa stole from father long ago.

Now the moon has gone to hiding, and lantern lights spill shadows on a fighting sand,
Where a wicked black named Zorro faces Gallo del Cielo in the night.
But Carlos Zaragosa fears the tiny crack that runs across his rooster's beak.
And he fears that he has lost the fifty thousand dollars riding on the fight.

Ola my Teresa, I am thinking of you now in Santa Clara.
Yes, the MONEY's on the table, I'm holding to your good luck framed in gold;
And everything we've dreamed of is riding on the spurs of del Cielo.
I pray that I'll return to buy the land that Villa stole from father long ago.

The signal it was given, and the cocks they rose together far above the sand.
El Gallo del Cielo sunk a gaff into Zorro's shiny breast.
They were separated quickly, but they rose and fought each other 37 times.
And the legends say that everyone agreed that del Cielo fought the best.

Then the screams of Zaragosa filled the night outside the town of Santa Clara,
As the beak of del Cielo lay broken like a shell within his hand.
And they say that Zaragosa screamed a curse upon the bones of Pancho Villa,
When Zorro rose up one last time and drove del Cielo through the sand.

Ola my Teresa, I am thinking of you now in San Francisco.
I have no MONEY in my pocket, I no longer have your good luck framed in gold.
I buried it last evening, with the bones of my beloved del Cielo.
And I'll not return to buy the land Villa stole from father long ago.

Do the rivers still run muddy outside of my beloved Casas Grandes?
Does the scar upon my brother's face turn red when he hears mention of my name?
Do the people of El Sweco curse the theft of Gallo del Cielo?
Well, tell my family not to worry, I will not return to cause them shame.

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Bony Fingers, by Hoyt Axton

Well, the rain's comin' down and the roof won't hold her.
Lost my job and I feel a little older.
Car won't start and our love's grown colder.

Maybe things'll get a little better in the morning;
Maybe things'll get a little better.
Work your fingers to the bone;
What'you get? Bony fingers.

Clothes need a washin' and the fire won't start.
Kids all cryin' and you're breakin' my heart.
Whole damn place is fallin' apart.

I've been broke as long as I remember.
Get a little MONEY and I gotta go and spend 'er.
When I try to save it, pretty woman come and take it, sayin'

Grass won't grow and the fire won't start.
Whole darn world is goin' to pot.
Might as well like it 'cause you're all that I've got.

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Free Mexican Air Force, by Peter Rowan

In the Moralos Mountains, Campesinos are planting their fields,
While the ghost of Zapata rides a horse that can still outrun the wheel;
While free in the sky above, and clear out of sight,
The Free Mexican Air Force is flying tonight.

In the city of angels a cowboy is cooling his heels,
Remembering that God gave us herbs and the fruits of the fields.
But a criminal law that makes outlaws of those seeking life
Made the Free Mexican Air Force, Mescalito riding his white horse,

Yeah, the Free Mexican Air Force, and we're flying tonight.
Flying so high, high, hee, hee-eee-eee-eee.

How strange that an innocent herb causes MONEY to burn.
The delia will kill you for making those rich fat cats squirm.
The fools who make rules don't know the difference between wrong & right.
That's why the Free Mexican Air Force is flying tonight.

Uncle Sam in his misery put a Nix on the fields of Carrero,
Saying shoot down all gringos and wetbacks who dare wear sombreros.
Either run for your life, surrender, or fight,
Or join the Free Mexican Air Force, flying tonight.

It is not marijuana destroying the minds of the young,
But confusion continued for power and greed in all forms.
Well, the borders of evil will fall to the smugglers of life,
Where the Free Mexican Air Force is flying tonight.

In San Antonio they tell me that power and MONEY are one.
They can buy us or sell you to keep you afraid, on the run.
But no one can stop us; my vision is clearly in sight,
And the Free Mexican Air Force is flying tonight.

Some are smoking colitas while others are loading their guns.
Blowing smoke from their six-shooters, spinning their barrels for fun.
Contra vandistas, banditos alike.
We're the Free Mexican Air Force, and we're flying tonight.

High in the hills, we are harvesting sweet sensimilla.
Yeah, the law wants it all, cause they know that the wild weed can free us,
And freedom for us is a prison for the rulers of minds.
That's why the Free Mexican Air Force is flying tonight.

------------------------------------------
Emilia, by The Tiger

Emilia, dou-dou, to be honest and true, me life and confidence placed in you.
Emilia, dou-dou, to be honest and true, me life and confidence placed in you.
Me father was a man belong to high rank; he die and leave MONEY in the royal bank.
He leave a cow, a goat, and a male donkey, and that is why I want to join in matrimony.

I mean to tell you the truth, how I met with Emilia is when I landed from America.
I told her, "Darling, I love you, honest and true, and anything for you I would do."
She said meet her that night in the square by the electric company. I'll meet her anywhere.
So we decided to meet quite positively, you could believe me, by La Peyrouse cemet'ry.

Well, I took Battoo bus at seven thirty, On my way to the cemetery.
I told her my aim was matrimony, and mine heart, it does rule the body.
She look at me and laugh and said, "You too small; and furthermore singing ain't no work at all."
She wanted a doctor or a barrister, a chief engineer or an overseer.

And then I tell her from the cow you can get nice milk; with the MONEY buy satin and silk.
It is a decent size for anyone to lead, and plant provision on which we can feed;
Build a nice home in the month of June, and on the island we'll spend our nice honeymoon.
We won't have to pay not a cent for rent; we'll be just as the Duke and Duchess of Kent.

But I really believe she made a terrible mistake; She thought I had cotton estate.
She began demanding ten bolt of silk, and to supply Port-of-Spain with milk.
But the cow died on her suddenly; I mean, the donkey was no good entirely.
And little later did she realize one of the goat leg was paralyze.