Subject: Lyr/Origin: THIS OLE HOUSE (Stuart Hamblen)
From:
Gene Graham
Date: 08 Apr 97 - 02:05 AM
I saw some discussion on the Internet awhile back about how the THIS OLE HOUSE came to be written;
Here's the story of THIS OLE HOUSE (1954) as told by Stuart Hamblen.
Some years back when I was on a hunting trip—way up in the high Sierra Mountain range, I had a rather strange thing happen to me. It was a cold, and I do mean a cold day. I'd ridden my horse up over a big ridge and was letting him "blow" a bit and I happened to look way off down in a wild desolate looking valley and I could see an old log cabin. Well, I was about in a mood to freeload somebody off a cup of coffee. So I rode my horse down toward the place. But, when I rode up, I was rather disappointed because it looked like there was nobody livin' there. I could see the front door had been blown down, kinda like it'd been rasslin' with a storm. In fact, it was a lonely lookin' place.
I was just about to ride on, when I got a big surprise. An old hound dog came staggering out of that old cabin and just real wearily like, lay down on the porch. Now I know a dog will not long remain in a deserted place, but if his master is in that place, he'll stay there till he starves to death and this dog looked like he wasn't far from doing that. Because that old dog was there and because there was no smoke coming out of that chimney—that place might have looked deserted—but I knew it wasn't.
This dog was telling me a story. And I thought to myself—there's something wrong here. The thought hit me with a foreboding premonition—there was a man there somewhere. I swung down off my horse—walked up to the porch and that old dog wearily got up and started slowly back into the house—same as to say, "Come on, I'll lead you to him." I stepped over the old door that was caved in—it was dark in the old house—and I couldn't see anybody about. I saw the old dog standing over by another door—walked over and opened it—and I saw him—a little old man on a couch.
As I walked up closer, I could see that he had snow on his chest—snow that had sifted in through a broken windowpane above him. I don't know how long the old man had been dead, he just looked like he was asleep. His old dog came up and began to whine. Now and then he'd look up to me with a pleading look—same as to say, "Can't you do something to help him?"
Then I happened to notice shabby window curtains that would sway back and forth every time the wind came through that broken window. A man's not gonna put up window curtains in a cabin that's at least 20 miles from the nearest road—a man won't do that. A woman had hung up those curtains. I began to wonder what had happened to her.
I turned and walked back out into the yard and sat down on a fallen tree—I noticed there wasn't any snow on that tree. Perhaps a storm had recently visited the mountains and blown it over. As I looked around, I could see a little toy wagon way up under the porch—a wagon that only had 3 wheels. And I wondered—where were the children that once played with that broken wagon? I can't explain it—but I reached in my coat pocket and got a little paper sack out and I thought I'd like to paint a word picture of that place.
I began the lyrics with—This Ole House once knew my children; This Ole House once knew my wife. Well, you know the rest of the story. This Ole House was a song hit of 7 different countries at the same time, but I don't think that anyone ever got the true meaning that I'd intended the song to convey. You see, I wrote it to be a sad song—and when I made the first recording—I did it that way. But then the recording industry said "Oh, Stuart, you're all wrong—to be a hit, it's got to have a real bounce to it."
Well, not long ago I was up in our attic and happened to run across that first old tape recording that I'd made. Perhaps if you listen to it you can get the true meaning that I wanted the song to have. You see, most people thought the song was about a poor lonely prospector and his half-dead dog that'd cashed in their blue chips way up high in the Sierra Mountains during a wild storm.
But that wasn't it at all—the song was about 2 houses—the house that's made of mud, brick and wood and stone—that a man built. And the other house—a mortal house—the house that the Maker of men—had loaned to the man for such a short, short time.
Source: Stuart Hamblen—The Cowboy Church—WORD RECORDS WST-8509 -LP
THIS OLE HOUSE
Words and music by Stuart Hamblen
INTRO: Ain't a-gonna need this house no longer
I'm a-gettin' ready to meet the saints.
This Ole House once knew my children.
This Ole House once knew my wife.
This Ole House was home and comfort
As we fought the storms of life.
This Ole House once rang with laughter.
This Ole House heard many a shout.
Now she trembles in the darkness
When the lightnin' walks about.
CHORUS But, I ain't gonna need this house no longer.
Ain't gonna need this house no more.
Ain't got time to fix the shingles.
Ain't got time to fix the floor.
Ain't got time to oil the hinges
Or to mend no windowpane.
Ain't gonna need this house no longer.
I'm a-gettin' ready to meet the saints.
This Ole House is a-gettin' shaky.
This Ole House it's gettin' old.
This Ole House lets in the rain.
This Ole House lets in the cold.
On my knees I'm gettin' chilly,
But I feel no fear nor pain,
'Cause I see an angel peekin'
Through a broken windowpane. CHORUS
My ole hound dog lies a-sleepin'.
He don't know I'm gonna leave,
Else he'd wake up by the fireplace.
He'd just sit there an' howl and grieve,
But my huntin' days are over.
We ain't goin' huntin' any more.
Gabriel done brought in my chariot
When the wind blew down the door. CHORUS
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