When you walk down the street, who will follow you?
Six o'clock, its getting late.
The moon it is rising as the sticky dew
Molds on the ground by the gate.
With your rifle on your shoulder as you walk along
Listening to your boot-heels hit the sod
Smoking your cigar as you hum a song
Thinking of your mother, and your God
Ah, buy you're alone, Jimmy Clay
As you smoke your cigar and earn your pay.
And fifteen thousand soldiers are marching by your side
Still you're alone, Jimmy Clay.
And remember New York town, good old New York town?
The friends, the drinks, the cops and all
And the whores who took your money when you couldn't stand
And all the roaring nights you can't recall? And remember Alice Fay, good old A
She'd been through life at least ten times around
And when she said she loved you, well she meant it, boy
Remember the night you nearly drowned?
Ah, but you're alone, Jimmy Clay
As you smoke your cigar and think of yesterday
Well, yesterday don't matter when its gone away
Where did it go, Jimmy Clay?
So as you lie there in the mud, who will talk to you?
Nobody, Jimmy Clay
For when you're gone mankind follows after you
Doesn't it, Jimmy Clay?
And your face is growing moldy where they kissed your cheek
And said "Please die for us, Jimmy Clay"
And so you died a soldier and a hero's death
Congratulations, Jimmy Clay.
Now you're alone, Jimmy Clay
You can smoke your cigar, and earn your pay
And somewhere in the distance you can hear the fiddle play
But not one note will change, Jimmy Clay
(c) Rabelaisian Music, Inc.
these from the Album notes of Patrick Sky's "Reality
is Bad Enough" Verve FTS-3052.,
Popup Midi Player