Chuck Wagon Calhoun - The Phantom Train Number 5

Chuck Wagon Calhoun's latest song is his telling of a tale about a train that is doomed to repeat an historical wreck that took the lives of all its passengers, who are all trapped souls on the train. They suffer through their fate every night because of the sabotaging of the train by a jealous lover. The legend goes that the engineer of the train was carrying on an affair with the lady friend of one of the railroad porters, so to get revenge the porter made a break in one of the rails on a bend where the train was right on the edge of a steep drop off. When the engine hit the break, it derailed, plummeting it and all the passenger and freight cars over the side and down the deep ravine. The engineer was thrown out of the train and suffered serious injury, but ironically survived. All the passengers were killed when the freight cars that hauled pig iron on the train fell on them at the bottom of the ravine and crushed them to death.  At least this is the story told to us by Calhoun's agent. 

Chuck Wagon of course picks and chooses the details he used in the song, and more than likely made the whole dang thing up. He's a spinner of tall tales, entertaining though they are. Our only complaint is that he takes a more or less serious tone with the song until the very last comment on the recording, and it kinds of spoils the effect.

Howdy
My name's Chuck  Wagon Calhoun
I'm fixin' to tell ya'll a story 'bout a section of
Rail track out in the ol' west that to this day
be haunted by... the ol' steamer,
The Phantom Train Number 5!
YeeHaw Ya'll!
 
The Phantom Train Number 5
They say still makes the mountain run
Ain't no rhyme nor reason to it
It's cargo be souls every one!
 
Used to be a popular train
Afore all of it went away
Run from Newton to Mason
Way back in them oldern days
 
Hauled all sorts of goods from town to town
Had some passenger cars as well
But one day when the whistle blowed
Round the bend o'er the side it fell
 
The Phantom Train Number 5
Made the same run years and years
Never had trouble, not even one
'Til two trainmen caused the tears
 
Nobody figgered it out
Why it lurched and jumped the rail
Been the most dependable then
Until the day of its fail
 
But rumor said the engineer
Makin' time with the porter's frail
So's he jiggered the rails all up
So the train 'round the bend would fail
 
The Phantom Train Number 5
Done in by a jealous lover

Caused a bad predicament
Made human souls ghosts that suffer
 
Ran the line a few years after
Even went to them diesel trains
But 'twern't long they shut 'er down
Quit makin' monetary gains
 
Like a mist in the dark of night
The steamer pulls cars along
Full of the souls that died that day
As they moan and groan their sad song
 
The Phantom Train Number 5
Carries us dead on hellish ride
We have to do all over again
Each night oe'r the edge we slide!
 
Now that's a hell of a thing, ain't it?
Twern't them folks fault that engineer were
Playin' round with somebody else's gal!
Nope! Not fair to make them folks pay!
Oh, hell, 'tis all bullshit anyway!

Un Grupo de Mexicali - El Burro Sabio (The Wise Burro)

 In the early 1500's, Spanish conquistadors, missionaries, and explorers brought burros to Mexico (called New Spain at the time) from the deserts of North Africa as well as the Arabian Peninsula. They are descendant from the African wild ass and were first domesticated in North Africa and The Middle East. The animals proved to be of valuable use in Mexico as pack animals used in mining and hauling goods over rough terrain and mountains. Although the animal has been largely replaced by modern mechanization, small landowners and farmers still rely on it.  Agave growers, the crop used  to make the liquor tequila, utilize burros in their fields. Producers say they do less damage than machines to the rows of agave plants. Coffee growers in hard  to reach areas use burros as they can navigate the rough terrain better than trucks.

The burrow remains a deeply embedded icon of Mexican culture. It has come to represent hard work, humility, strength, and the rural life, although it also has a reputation among some as being stubborn and stupid. But that is not really the case. They are intelligent, and what is mistaken for stubbornness can be a sign of their intelligence when they refuse to do something because they may perceive a danger, or recognize that they are overheated and tired and need to rest. 

In this song by Un Grupo de Mexicali,  the man who owns the burro is outwitted by the burro, and the burro freely admits that he is the one in charge, not the owner! The song's verses are first sung in Spanish, then English translation. The group sent us the sound file for publication, as they still refuse to enter the United States, despite having all the current paperwork and visas up to date. They are very suspicious of the current U.S government's position on immigration and foreign visitors. 

Mi patrón un hombre terco
Siempre quiere mandar
Yo un burrito listo
Sé cómo lo puedo engañar
 
Él me jala la rienda
Piensa que soy lento
Pero mi cerebro piensa
Más allá del momento
 
Ay ay ay mi burrito
Qué astuto animal
Ay ay ay mi burrito
Siempre salgo triunfal
 
My master, a stubborn man
Tries to be in command
I'm a clever little burro
I can out trick any man
 
He pulls on the reins
He thinks I'm slow
But my brain thinks
Past the moment though
 
Oh oh oh a little burro
A cunning animal am I
Oh oh oh a little burro
I win and I don't even try
 
Me carga con sacos pesados
La montaña escalar
Yo me hago el cansado
Lo hago sudar
 
Un día me puse a pensar
Qué tonto mi patrón
Lo dejo siempre ganar
Pero la victoria es mi don
 
Ay ay ay mi burrito
Qué astuto animal
Ay ay ay mi burrito
Siempre salgo triunfal
 
 
He loads me with heavy sacks
To climb the mountain
I pretend to be tired
So his shirt with sweat is stained
 
One day I started to think
How foolish my master is
He thinks he always wins
But victory is not his!
 
Oh oh oh a little burro
A cunning animal am I
Oh oh oh a little burro
I win and I don't even try

Betty Miranga - Lonely Train Whistles

Betty Miranga seems to be haunted by her memories, especially many of them that are connected with the sound of trains. Her father worked as as engineer, and passed away on the job. Her mother never remarried and lived in the family house until she died a few years ago. Betty has lived in the house alone since her mother passed on, and all of her family has moved away. She has two sons by a previous marriage, and both of them work on the railroad, so the connection continues with the younger generation. 

She came to our studio to record this song, and we had a chance to talk to her. As her song says, she's got the family home she's lived in most of her life for sale, and as soon as it's sold she's moving. To just where, she's not sure yet. She's staying in our area for a while, maybe going to record another song or two, and she says she likes it here. Not too many of our artists record in our studio. Most of them have recording studios in their locations, and they send us sound files of their music. It would be great if she decided to stay. We can always find things for her to do in the studio, as she's a fine guitarist as well as singer/songwriter.  And as she's already noticed, there are no train routes close by!  

It was time to pack up move on
No matter how long I've lived here
Too much heartache and memory
Adding to my sadness I fear
 
When the wind blows from the south
Sounds of the trains invade my head
Remindin' me of those are gone
Whether they are alive or dead
 
My Momma used to live here
Long after my Daddy was gone
My brother and sisters too
But now all of them have flown
 
When the wind blows from the south
Rustlin'  memories below
My heart aches with the sound
The lonely train whistles blow
 
Sure 'twern't easy not at all
Put on market my childhood home
But I just can't stay here no more
It's past time for me to roam
 
When the wind blows from the south
The sounds come in my window
As I lay at night in my bed
And all my tears start to flow

Gummer Beaudine - I Believe In Me, And Let Be!

 Gummer Beaudine returns with a song in her aggressive style in the song I Believe In Me, And Let Be! We're not sure where all the aggression stems from, but far be it from us here at Big And Tall Records to be amateur psychologists. What we do know is that Gummer's had a tough life, and is proud of how she's evolved to such a tough nut. Unfortunately, being a woman in modern times still has more than its share of prejudice and injustice. We like to think that we're more enlightened, and that's not to deny that progress has been made in gender and race relations. Progress has been made, but progress needs to continue! 

Be all that as it may, Gummer has shown that she has many moods and is capable of expressing herself very well; sometimes more subtly than this song where she's pretty much in the listener's face. But we like her music, her many moods, and we know better than to mess with Ms Beaudine!

You say you just don't like me

You say I'm too goddam crude
You say I ain't worth nothin'
You say I'm nasty and rude
 
Why ya'll think that it matters
I know I ain't all refined
So if ya'll got a bone to pick
Just take your place back the line!
 
Don't matter ‘t all to me  ass hole
What ya'll might think 'bout me
What ya see is what ya get
I believe in me, and let be!
 
Last I heard you ain't my boss
So ya'll can jest kiss my ass!
I'm proud where I come from
My roots in the workin' class
 
Worked ever day for years
In a shitty factory
Makin' goddam widgets
Wages unsatisfactory
 
Don't matter ‘t all to me  ass hole
What ya'll might think 'bout me
What ya see is what ya get
I believe in me, and let be!
 
Dealt with my share of bastards
Dealt with my share of cheats
But none the f*ckers ever
Drove me to final defeat
 
Yeah, I can be a real bitch
Not always proud of the fact
Sometimes I wish I wasn't
That I had more ease and tact
 
But I could wish in one hand
And collect shit in t'other
But I know which would fill up first
So I ain't a gonna bother
 
Don't matter ‘t all to me  ass hole
What ya'll might think 'bout me
What ya see is what ya get
I believe in me, and let be!
 
Hell no it don't matter at all
Couldn't give a shit any less
Too damned old to change my ways
That I'm willin' to confess
 
Seen it! Done it! Lived through it!
Bought a f*ckin' T shirt
And I ain't goin' back...

Hambone Riley - The Mud Bug Blues

 

We confess to being perplexed about the title of Hambone Riley's latest, The Mud Bug Blues, but the mystery of the title was dispelled after hearing the song. So hats off to Hambone for piquing our interest; a sign that a song title is a good one! 

Some of the past recordings of Hambone might have given the impression about his sincerity as a musician, but this is a good example of how he's not just about humorous and risque songs, but an accomplished and serious musician. His guitar playing is top notch, here performed on a resonator guitar, and his blues singing is passionate. an all around great bluesman that we're happy to have as one of our artists here at Big And Tall Records!

We didn't know crayfish (or crawdads as we called them when we were kids) are also called mud bugs. We used to catch them near the river bank and use them for fish bait, and they can be a challenge to grab by hand if you don't remember that they're quick and don't move head first. They can scoot pretty quick backwards and hide in the mud (hence the name) or under rocks. And they are really good to eat, and even when you've got some good sized ones it takes a lot to fill you up!  So in the cajun restaurant we used to frequent they're served up by the pail full in an annual Crawdad Festival. They're kind of like mini lobster. Takes a bit to get the hang of eating them; they're boiled up whole, break the tail and body in two. The connoisseurs suck the juices out of the head section and peel the tails while the more faint of heart just eat the tails and sometime the claws. 

We can imagine Hambone's narrator of the story (maybe himself in his younger days) sitting in front of a plate of mud bugs waiting for his lover, but she never shows. And adding insult to injury, he goes to pay for his meal and finds unbeknownst to him that she took all his money as well. Now that's the blues!

Oh, I got the Mudbug blues
Lawd help me, the mudbug blues
My woman's gone, she don't belong
I'm sad from my head to my shoes
 
When I was in New Orleans
I met me a woman there
Me and her hooked up real fast
And it led to my despair
 
Oh, I got the Mudbug blues
Lawd help me, the mudbug blues
My woman's gone, she don't belong
Believin' it my heart just refuse
 
We enjoyed each other for days
Together we seen the sights
Never saw the signs she give me
Amongst all them dazzlin' lights
 
We ate lots of Cajun food
That were as hot as we were
We had a date to have some mo
But she ain't any where

Oh, I got the Mudbug blues
Sittin' here with the mudbug blues
I been abused, and I been used
Cain't even buy me no booze!
 
Sittin' in this restaurant
Done checked my wallet to pay
Guess I gotta stay right here
But I wanna just run away!
 
She stole my money for sure
Done fucked me ever which way
 Stole my heart too, and that's a debt
She ain't never gonna pay!
 
Oh, I got the Mudbug blues
Never get over it again
Won’t forget what she done to me
It's the most worst I ever been!

Chuck Wagon Calhoun - It Were in The Town Of Frog Lick

Just where in the heck is the town of Frog Lick? And is there a town named Frog Lick? A quick check of Google finds no town named Frog Lick anywhere. Not a big surprise, as Chuck Wagon's reputation as a tale spinner is well known. And by the introduction he gives to the song, you might expect a tender country ballad about a broken heart. But far from it! The tempo quickens, and we have another humorous song! 

We here at Big And Tall Records still have not discovered who Chuck Wagon Calhoun is. We're dealing with a go-between acting as his agent, and there's no info to be gained from them! So we'll look forward to the next song he sends us!

Howdy!

My name's Chuck Wagon Calhoun
I reckon ya'll might wanna hear 'bout a lost love of mine
 That still grieves my heart to think 'bout.
 
It were in the town of  Frog Lick
Where my dear sweet heart made her home
I tried to git her to go away
From her Maw and Paw she wouldn't roam
 
When a young'un I'd go courtin'
To my dear Petunia's house
We'd sit in the swing on the porch
I'd stick my hand down her blouse
 
But we had to keep an eye peeled
Fer her Maw and Paw that spied
Cuz they knowed their daughter was loose
So they always kept her in eye
 
It were in the town of  Frog Lick
Where my dear sweet heart made her home
I tried to git her to go away
From her Maw and Paw she wouldn't roam
 
Knowed she had a lot of lovers
But that never mattered to me
Figgered she knew all the tricks
And she never would charge a fee
 
So I took what I could git
At least got to feel her titties
Got caught once by hags goin' by
A nasty ol' bunch of biddies!
 
The ol' ladies raised a ruckus
Maw and Paw ran out the house
One the women said 'HEY LOOKEE!
HE GOT HIS HAND DOWN HER BLOUSE!
 
It were in the town of  Frog Lick
First time a gun were pulled on me
GIT OFF OUR PORCH, YOU LECHER!
So I ran off, their words I heed
 
But it didn't last fer long
Soon as it got really late
'Bout midnight I went to see her
We gonna leave town be my mate
 
We always met in the barn
Opened the door, was confused
Two legs up in the air
AND I RECOGNIZED THE SHOES!
 
It were in the town of  Frog Lick
Bitch couldn't even wait fer me
Some other feller's between her legs
Jest like she had done with me!
 
So I learned a lesson that night
Took off from Frog Lick next day
Never been back
But on occasion, I think 'bout Petunia
I really did love her, 'specially her titties
But then, I think 'bout all the men she' prolly had since then
All the young'uns she got
 Prolly fat and wrinkly by now
She never did smell too good neither
GODDAM, DID I dodge A BULLET! 

The Burgoo Boys featuring Uncle June's Jug Band - The Ol' Fishin' Hole (Near The Oak)

The Burgoo Boys featuring Uncle June's Jug Band is quite a mouthful of a name for a band, but that's the way the two bands decided to list themselves when they joined forces late last year. Both bands played traditional and original songs at their gigs, but the leaders of both bands wanted to do more original songs. It takes time writing songs, what with lyrics, music, trying them out, rehearsals and all. So to join forces made sense for both of them in that sense, as well as both groups expanding their instrum-entation and sound palette. 

The Burgoo Boys are primarily a Bluegrass band, and Uncle June's as the name says, a Jug Music band. both genres aren't that far apart music-wise, as there's considerable overlap. But the ideas are flowing, and their recordings are gathering momentum. 

John Henry Flort is the leader/soloist/songwriter for The Burgoo Boys, and  Uncle June McShary is the same for The Jug Band, and on this recording they both take turns singing until the end when the whole gang joins in.  The song tells of the favorite fishin' hole of the men. In the part of Kentucky where it's at (like good fishermen, they don't reveal the location of their favorite hole!) the water stays open most of the time in the winter, but with no leaves on the oak tree near the hole, it isn't the same. They give a good visual for us Northerners of a warm Kentucky day, lazily fishin' under the shade of that oak tree with a sack of sandwiches and a jug to wet yer whistle!

The ol' fishin' hole near the oak
That spreads out givin' ya shade
On a warm Kentucky day
Toss out yer bait, ya got it made!
 
Many a day I spent fishin'
Underneath that big, tall oak tree
With a bag of sandwiches
And a jug that's jest fer me
 
Times them fish 'bout jumped on the bank
Other times they jest disappeared
Whether ya'll caught somethin' or no
Yer disposition will be cheered
 
The ol' fishin' hole near the oak
That spreads out givin' ya shade
On a warm Kentucky day
Toss out yer bait, ya got it made!
 
Now up north, ya'll fish through the ice
Gets colder than hell up there
But not here in Kentucky
Can go fishin' most anywhere
 
The ol' fishin' hole ain't the same
Oak done shed leaves I do believe
You can’t have one without t'other
Fishin' hole ain't the same with no leaf!
 
The ol' fishin' hole near the oak
Summertime givin' ya shade
Wait for a warm Kentucky day
Toss out yer bait, ya'll have it made!
 
So many that go fishin' there
To prevent squabbles and rifts
Us fellers have a lottery
And we abide fishin' in shifts!
 
Now they's a big ol' blue cat
Likes to hang out in the slew
Got bets who's a gonna catch him
And land that fish we call Big Blue!
 
I almost caught him couple times
He likes meanderin' to the ol' fishin' hole
Water's deep and cool in the summer
He don't never sleep, and I gots the night shift!
So I got the stinkin'est, rottennest, most disgustin' cat fish bait
Ya ever locked yer nose on! I'm a gonna git Big Blue by hook or crook!
 
The ol' fishin' hole near the oak
That spreads out givin' ya shade
On a warm Kentucky day
Toss out yer bait, ya got it made!