Jim Croce - Facets
Well I got my mail late last night
A letter from a girl who found the time to write
To her lonesome boy somewhere in the night
She sent me a railroad ticket too
To take me to her loving arms
And the big steel rail
Gonna carry me home to the one I love
Well I been out here many a long days
I haven't found a place that I could call my own
Not a two bit bed to lay my body on
I been stood up I been shook down
I bin dragged into the sand
And the big steel rail gonna carry me home to the one I love
Well I been up tight most every night
Walking along the streets of this old town
Not a friend to tell my troubles to
My good old car she done broke down
'Cause I drove it into the ground
And the big steel rail gonna carry me home to the one I love
Well look over yonder across the plain
The big drive wheels a-pounding along the ground
Gonna get on board and I'll be homeward bound
Now I ain't had a home cooked meal
And Lord I need one now
And the big steel rail gonna carry me home to the one I love
Now here I am with my head in the sand
Standing on the broad highway will you give a ride
To a lonesome boy who missed the train last night
I went in town for one last round
And I gambled my ticket away
And the big steel rail won't carry me home to the one I love
I know a fool who blows a horn
He comes from way down South, oh yeah
And you ain't seen some blowin' since you been born
Like when a trombone's to his mouth
He wails and moans, grunts and groans
He can moan just like a cow
And you ain't seen some blowin' since you been born
Cause he won't show them how
Chorus:
Oh Charlie won't you play that thing
I mean it's my trombone
Make it talk
Make it sing
I mean it's my trombone
If Gabriel knew how you could blow
He'd let you lead his band I know
Oh Charlie won't you play that thing
I mean it's my trombone
Chorus
Now you ain't seen such movin' hips
Like when the trombone do his licks
Charlie Green play that thing
I mean it's my trombone
Oh yeah, I mean it's my trombone
Gunga Din
Traditional - Revised & Arranged by - Jim Croce
You may talk of gin and beer
When you're stationed way out here
An' you're sent to penny fights an' Aldershot it
But when it comes to slaughter
You will do your work for water
An' you'll lick the boots of 'im that's got it
Now in Inja's sunny clime
Where I used to spend my time
Servin' her Majesty the Queen
Of all the black faced crew
The finest man I knew
Was regimental bhisti, Gunga Din
The uniform he wore
Was nothin' much before
An' rather less than half of that behind
But a piece of twisty rag
An' a goatskin water bag
Was all the field equipment he could find
When a sweatin' troop train lay
In a sidin' through the day
Where the heat would make you bloomin' eyebrows crawl
We shouted, "Harry By"
Till our throats were bricky-dry
Then wopped him 'cause he couldn't serve us all
He would dot an' carry one
Till the longest day was done
An' never seemed to know the use of fear
If we charged or broke or cut
You could bet your bloomin' nut
He'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear
With his mussick on his back
He would skip to our attack
An' watch us till the bugles made"Retire"
An' for all his dirty hide
He was white, clear white inside
When he went to tend the wounded under fire
It was Din, Din, Din
With the bullets kickin' dust spots on the green
And when the cartridges ran out
You could hear the front files shout
Send ammunition mules, and Gunga Din!
I shan't forget the night
When I fell behind the fight
With a bullet where my belt plate should a' been
I was chokin' mad with thirst
An' the man that spied me first
Was our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga Din
He lifted up my head
An' he plugged me where I bled
An' he gave me half a pint of water green
It was crawlin' and it stunk
But of all the drinks I've drunk
I'm most grateful to the one from Gunga Din
He carried me away
To where a dooli lay
An' a bullet came and drilled the beggar clean
He carried me inside
An' just before he died
I hope you like your drink said Gunga Din
So I'll meet him later on
In the place where he as gone
Where it's always double drill and no canteen
He'll be squattin' on the coals
Givin' drink to poor damn souls
I'll catch a swig in hell from Gunga Din
It was Din, Din, Din
You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din
Tho' I've belted you an' flayed you
By the livin' God that made you
Your a better man than I am, Gunga Din
Sun Come Up
Written by - Jim Croce & Richard Croce
Sun come up in the morning
Blues round my head
I've got a troubled mind and plenty of time to roam
As I walk this crooked highway
Never knowin' where to go
You know the only life I know is bein' on the road
I've got holes in my shoes that I fill with paper
When the sun's out they dry
And when it rains well they get wet but I don't cry
Because the sun don't know no difference
Between a rich man and a bum
And the only life I know is movin' round the sky
See him grin down at you people
I guess you don't know what his laughter's from
But if you spend enough time on the road
Maybe you'd find out
Because the sun goes round in an endless circle
Never knowin' the reason why
Still there's something in the path that it traces round the sky
It's like a circle with no ending
But it's a race we all must run
And it's the same bein' a rich man or a bum
Running Maggie
Instrumental-Arr: Fehrenbach
Big Fat Woman
Written by - Eric Von Schmidt
You big fat woman get your fat leg off of me
You big fat woman get your fat leg off of me
You feel so good
Scare the hell out of me
You got a great big leg
Got a whoppin' thigh
Great big leg
Got a whoppin' thigh
Now oooh
You got a great big leg
Got a whoppin' thigh
And every time you move make my temperature rise
That fine lookin' woman got a great big leg
Fine lookin' woman got a great big leg, Yeah
Big fat woman with a great big leg
Big fat woman got a great big leg
And every time she moves
Moves like a soft boiled egg
So big fat woman get your fat leg off of me
Now you obese woman get your fat leg off of me
You feel so good
Scare the hell out of me