Get all 10 Chris Richards releases available on Bandcamp and save 20%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Waikīkī, Red Dog Saloon, Wisconsin River, Ellie The Polar Bear, Afterlight, The Magic Line, Goldenwest, Landlocked!, and 2 more.
1. |
Sawdust Town
02:57
|
|||
|
It’s Sunday morning of 8 October
Mama made breakfast while we finished our chores
We all walked home from Sunday church
And you couldn’t see the sun in the sky no more
It’s been three months since the last good rain
And the forest all around us dry as hay
The smoke’s gettin’ thicker and Daddy’s worried
He’s been diggin’ ditches ‘round the house all day
Night has settled in an eerie quiet
When brother points a finger to the southwest sky
Treetops orange and red and growing
Now I see the panic in my Daddy’s eyes
“Run, Florabelle, go run to the river!
Y’ain’t got time to put your shoes back on
Run, Florabelle, run-run to the river!
Fire is coming to a sawdust town”
The wind’s whipping up, you can hear it coming
And I’m running as fast as my legs will go
Through panicked horses and deer and people
It’s chaos in the streets of Peshtigo
“Run, Florabelle, go run to the river!
You just might make it if you don’t fall down
Run, Florabelle, run-run to the river!
Fire is coming to a sawdust town”
Take a right at the corner where the church is ashes
Left at the corner where the schoolhouse burns
Balls of fire rain down around me
It’s a wild inferno everywhere I turn
“Run, Florabelle, go run to the river!”
The flames are nippin’ at your calico gown
Run, Florabelle, run-run to the river!
Fire is coming to a sawdust town”
I can’t see the water but I know I’m near it
From the splashin’ and the screamin’ and the cries of pain
Oh, my God, it’s right behind me!
It must be the arrival of the devil’s train
“Run, Florabelle, go run to the river!”
And don’t look behind you as it all burns down
Run, Florabelle, run-run to the river!
Fire is coming to a sawdust town”
“Fire is coming to a sawdust town”
© 2020 Chris Richards / White Mare Music (BMI)
|
||||
2. |
Hard Frost
02:52
|
|||
|
We spent all afternoon raking leaves into the beds
Preparing for the first of many long, cold nights ahead
You cut all of the daisies back, and I brought the pots inside
If you’re not paying attention, it’ll catch you by surprise
So I went l went looking in your office for the Farmer’s Almanac
And when I saw your cellphone’s screen light up, a chill went down my back
There’s a hard frost coming in overnight
A wind shift, and everything’s crystallized
Once exposed, hardly anything survives
There’s a hard frost, a hard frost
There’s a hard frost coming in tonight
I’ve endured my share of winters, I’ve been around the block
But you’re never quite prepared, you’re never ready for the shock
Now you’ll have to prune the dahlias and the roses for the year
’Cause when the morning ice is melted, I’ll be a long, long way from here
There’s a hard frost coming in overnight
A wind shift, and everything’s crystallized
Once exposed, hardly anything survives
There’s a hard frost, a hard frost
There’s a hard frost coming in tonight
© 2015 Chris Richards / White Mare Music (BMI)
|
||||
3. |
Walleye Fingers
02:27
|
|||
|
So I’m 3 drinks in at the Buckhorn Tavern
Got to noticing a picture hung behind the bar
“Hey, Ole, who’s in this photo?
The young man standing next to Dillinger’s car?”
And my buddy Ole the bartender says, “His name was Walleye Fingers
Had a shop in Crivitz where he sold live bait
Told stories that would blow your mind
He knew everything to know about the Dairy State”
He was...
Walleye... Walleye Fingers
He just missed making all the history books
Walleye... Walleye Fingers
Bonafide legend of the great Northwoods
He carved a Log for his friend Les Paul
And he did a little sketching for Frank Lloyd Wright
Brokered a trade for a young Brett Favre
And he taught Hank Aaron ‘bout gemutlichkeit
He was...
Walleye... Walleye Fingers
He just missed making all the history books
Walleye... Walleye Fingers
Bonafide legend of the great Northwoods
Now, you might find it difficult believing
I asked him one time if it all was true
He said, “I swear on the mustachioed reliever
My brother Rollie wouldn’t let me lie to you”
He was a lifelong confidant of Liberace
Showed Suzy Favor how to lengthen her stride
The inspiration for Arthur Fonzarelli
And he gave Bob Uecker “Just a bit outside!”
He was...
Walleye... Walleye Fingers
He just missed making all the history books
Walleye... Walleye Fingers
Bonafide legend of the great Northwoods
Walleye... Walleye Fingers
You’re not gonna find him in the history books
Walleye... Walleye Fingers
Bonafide legend of the great Northwoods
He was a bonafide legend of the great Northwoods
© 2020 Chris Richards / White Mare Music (BMI)
|
||||
4. |
||||
|
He came from near the Winnebago
The tall, beloved Ho-Chunk chief
His people called him Yellow Thunder
He was the man who would not leave
He was summoned by the white man’s leader
Who made him sign away their land
Shipped them cross the Mississippi
He would just walk back again
Didn’t really matter how he got there
He could feel it deep inside his bones
Nothing on this earth could stop him
Yellow Thunder walking home
I grew up not far from this river
I was lured away by dreamers’ dreams
The promise of an endless summer
And everything that leaving means
Now I’ve returned to walk the river
Lone, but not alone at all
Something trails a step behind me
A shadow that’s a bit too tall
Didn’t really matter how he got there
He could feel it deep inside his bones
Nothing on this earth could stop him
Yellow Thunder walking home
We look out at the wide Wisconsin
Fleeing serpents carved this stone
Wanderers, always returning
Yellow Thunder walking home
Didn’t really matter how he got there
He could feel it deep inside his bones
Nothing on this earth could stop him
Yellow Thunder walking home
No, nothing on this earth could stop him
Yellow Thunder Walking home
© 2020 Chris Richards / White Mare Music (BMI)
|
||||
5. |
Fond du Lac Jail
01:51
|
|||
|
(Traditional, with additional lyrics by Chris Richards)
The Fond du Lac jail ain’t no jail at all
You stare at the ceiling, then stare at the wall
The jailer walks by like he’s deaf and he’s blind
I’m sure he’s delighted I’m losing my mind
There’s hard times in the Fond du Lac jail
There’s hard, hard times
In the morning they give you a dry loaf of bread
Hard as a stone, and as heavy as lead
Thrown from the ceiling down into your cell
Like something from Heaven dropped down into Hell
Hard times in the Fond du Lac jail
There’s hard, hard times
I’ll never again go to Finnegan’s Bar
With the Cardinal boys and a new credit card
It was shot after shot after shot of the fog
The next thing I knew I was tied like a hog
There’s hard times in the Fond du Lac jail
There’s hard, hard times
The copper that got me, he roughed me up good
And tased me again, just so I understood
The only good perp is a one seeing stars
And not terrorizing the Fond du Lac bars
There’s hard times in the Fond du Lac jail
There’s hard, hard times
This bed must be made out of old, rotten rugs
I wake in the morning, all covered with bugs
And the bugs will all swear that unless I get bail
I’m bound to go lousy in Fond du Lac jail
There’s hard times in the Fond du Lac jail
There’s hard, hard times
It’s snowy and windy, or so I’ve been told
My Annie threw all my things out in the cold
My mother said only, “I hope you had fun”
The public defense said, “Good luck to you, son”
There’s hard times in the Fond du Lac jail
There’s hard, hard times
© 2020 Chris Richards / White Mare Music (BMI)
|
||||
6. |
||||
|
I stepped off of the M&M train
To cannon fire and a grand parade
We’d ridden all night from towns out west
To join a thousand of Milwaukee’s best
We marched through Kentucky in the autumn heat
Chased those Rebels into Tennessee
They whipped us good at the Georgia line
And we limped back to Chattanooga with our dead behind
Now we’re cold and starving on the valley floor
And the fever’s like I’ve never seen before
Buzzards are circling overhead
This was not how it was s’posed to end
I’ve read my bible and said my prayers
Forgiven you when you weren’t there
All I ask to make us square
Just do this one thing for me
Don’t let me die in Tennessee
We’re in trouble from the look of it
Must be 40,000 Rebels on that ridge
Nobody’s sure that we can break that line
But we’ve come this far and there’s a hill to climb
So rush the slope, boys, and duck the shells
“On Wisconsin!” a young man yells
As a bullet burns into my thigh
I raise my rifle and I close one eye
I’ve read my bible and said my prayers
Forgiven you when you weren’t there
All I ask to make us square
Just do this one thing for me
Don’t let me die in Tennessee
I’ve read my bible and said my prayers
Forgiven you when you weren’t there
All I ask to make us square
Just do this one thing for me
Don’t let me die in Tennessee
© 2020 Chris Richards / White Mare Music (BMI)
|
||||
7. |
Blackberry Heaven
03:44
|
|||
|
It was a warm day in an Up North summer
My brothers and me
Were riding on the folded-down tailgate
Of our Daddy’s Grand Marquis
He pulled off by the edge of the forest
And the six of us jumped out
With milk jugs and ice cream pails
For gathering berries up
Momma found the hole in the tree line
And we followed her in
Down a path through a dark, damp thicket
Then the sun poured down again
Into...
Blackberry Heaven
My family and me
Brambles of purple fruit
As far as we could see
I know your voices
Even when you’re just out of view
Blackberry Heaven
Can I stay forever here with you?
Here I am, back again
I’ve been gone so many years
It’s so much how I remember
I just wish they were here
I drive down the West Shore Road
Looking for that subtle seam
The path that can take me back
Into a sweet berry dream
After a while, I finally give up
And watch the darkness fall
What are memories, really?
Was it ever there at all?
When our summers are finally over
And we all go home again
Look for me in a clearing in the forest
A milk jug in my hand
In...
Blackberry Heaven
My family and me
Brambles of purple fruit
As far as we can see
I know your voices
Even when you’re just out of view
Blackberry Heaven
Can I stay forever here with you?
© 2020 Chris Richards / White Mare Music (BMI)
|
||||
8. |
Bruiser
02:12
|
|||
|
You went out west with a Strat on your back
A song in your head, and a voice you could stack
Into the sweetest harmony
Played your way into rock n’ roll heights
Backstage blur in the Hollywood lights
It was a quicksand life
Did you ever reach your hand up high?
You were hardly around
Long enough to be the toast of the town
You couldn’t see the future
They’ll sing your songs
Probably long after we’re all gone
They won’t forget you, Bruiser
You came back here, to where you began
And you started a weird little polka band
The people came from all around
Raise it up, drink it all down
Wipe your mouth to the roar of the crowd
And stumble off the stage
They buy you shots, slap your back
They don’t understand, so nobody asks
What it was like up there
A hundred-thousand miles up in the air
You were hardly around
Long enough to be the toast of the town
You couldn’t see the future
They’ll sing your songs
Probably long after we’re all gone
They won’t forget you, Bruiser
Just a 3-inch-long
Article that told the world you were gone
I won’t forget you, Bruiser
© 2020 Chris Richards / White Mare Music (BMI)
|
||||
9. |
Satchel Came To Sparta
04:34
|
|||
|
It was a summer night in Sparta, Wisconsin, so hot, it ached to breathe
A robin’s-egg-blue Cadillac came floating down the street
It slowly slid right past us, with its windows partly down
Playing “Kansas City, Kansas City, here I come”
Driving was Leroy “Satchel” Paige, the Negro League baseball star
We followed him to the buzzing crowd down at Memorial baseball park
He’d come from many miles away to storm our Coulee barns
To mesmerize with his fastballs and his Alabama charm
The city team took the lead with young Billy on the mound
We peeked into the dugout to see Ol’ Satchel nodded out
Then at the end of 3, he finally stood and grabbed his glove
A murmur spread through the bleachers, and then a cheer went up
Satchel came to Sparta in 19 and 59
He was north of 50, and two decades past his prime
They still tell the stories of the numbers that he fanned
All across the dusty diamonds of the Dairyland
Satchel shuffled to the mound like he was already out of gas
Rationing every movement like each step could be his last
But when he took that baseball, boy, his youth came rushing back
He leaned forward, reared a bit, then he slung it by their bats
He threw the Looper, and the Drooper and the Whipsy-Dipsy-Do
The Eephus pitch, the Trouble Ball, the Bowtie and the Screw
It was “Tusser”, Nowak, Herman, first, then Kowitz, “Red” and Spink
The old man had them knotted up and then off the field they’d slink
Mosquitoes swarmed onto everything, but no one seemed to care
Before them worked a legend, there was magic in the air
And once Spinky’s little bitty dribbler had been put away with ease
Satch doffed his hat and mopped his sweaty forehead with his sleeve
When the game was over, he signed cards for all kids
Their dads took pictures of him while they told him things he did
A couple of us walked him out to that robin’s-egg-blue car
Said, “Come have a beer with us, Satch, down at Emma’s Wonder Bar”
He said, “Na’… I appreciate it, I’ll have’ta catch you next time, Bo
Another town’s a-waitin’, and there’s a long, long way to go”
“They say you’ll pitch forever, Satchel, can that really be true?”
“Now, boys, what else is a colored man from Mobile gonna do?”
Then the Cadillac floated back down the street and out of sight
To another town, another town, another town, goodnight
Satchel came to Sparta in 19 and 59
He was north of 50, and two decades past his prime
They still tell the stories of the numbers that he fanned
All across the dusty diamonds of the Dairyland
© 2020 Chris Richards / White Mare Music (BMI)
|
||||
10. |
Black Summer
02:45
|
|||
|
A Tennessee tornado
Took out the neighborhood
They closed up all the honkytonks
And now I’m gone for good
The coward found the helpless ones
And slammed them to the floor
Nobody wants to be in this
Black summer anymore
It’s all gone crazy, who knows why?
Maybe there’s a bad moon on the rise
Gotta make it through the winter to the other side
I hope that we can make it with our souls intact
Black summer, don’t ever come back
Black summer, don’t ever come back
So I moved on to higher ground
Along the western shore
Found refuge here in all the places
I had loved before
But the sickness finally found me
Then went looking for more
Nobody wants to be in this
Black summer anymore
It’s all gone crazy, who knows why?
Better wear a mask you better stay inside
Gotta make it through the winter to the other side
I hope that we can make it with our souls intact
Black summer, don’t ever come back
Black summer, don’t ever come back
I thought it might be all a dream
Or maybe a mistake
As I watched the cellphone videos
Of Arbery, Floyd and Blake
I pray this is the last of it
We lock that bloody door
Nobody wants to be in this
Black summer anymore
It’s all gone crazy, who knows why?
Are you coming with, or will you stay behind?
Gotta make it through the winter to the other side
I hope that we can make it with our souls intact
Black summer, don’t ever come back
Black summer, don’t ever come back
© 2020 Chris Richards / White Mare Music (BMI)
|
||||
11. |
Moon Over Michigan
03:33
|
|||
|
Ferry lights are fading in the distance
A quiet settles on the lake
Listening for secrets by the shoreline
Underneath the stars of Hika Bay
There’s a moon, tonight, over Michigan
And the light dances on her waves
Look to the east and make a wish again
Wisconsin, I will stay
Why I ever left, I can’t remember
So many years have gone around the bend
Let’s sing a song of new beginnings
It’s so good to see you, my old friend
There’s a moon, tonight, over Michigan
And the light dances on her waves
Look to the east and make a wish again
Wisconsin, I will stay
It’s in the trees up in the Northwoods
It’s in the waters flowing through the Dells
Standing in this spot of moonlight
I’m completely underneath your spell
There’s a moon, tonight, over Michigan
And the light dances on her waves
Look to the east and make a wish again
Wisconsin, I will stay
Wisconsin, I will stay
© 2020 Chris Richards / White Mare Music (BMI)
|
||||
Chris Richards Palm Springs, California
Chris Richards is a critically acclaimed songwriter and recording artist from Sheboygan, Wisconsin.
If you like Chris Richards, you may also like:
Shock Out of Season
by Friendship
A twisting combination of synths, drums (both live and programmed), and Rhodes piano produce truly sweet DIY pop.
go to album
The latest album by the Mumbai-based pop artist hits country, folk, and pop notes.
go to album
Forever is a Long Time
by Ian Coss
These sweet, sad indie pop tunes accompany Ian Coss's podcast of the same name, in which he interviews his family about their divorces.
go to album
The gorgeous and gripping new record from Anika Pyle features minimalist folk & pop songs that struggle to make sense of loss.
go to album
Neptune’s Daughter
by Kerri Watt
Scottish singer-songwriter Kerri Watt makes sweet and unpredictable pop-rock.
go to album
The Italian trio ramps classic country and rockabilly influences up to a frenzied pace.
go to album
Sophie Strauss's potent vocals careen over anthemic indie pop on this album of quotidian love songs.
go to album
