Must be a trend for songs about legends. We at Big And Tall Records just released a song by Chuck Wagon Calhoun about The Phantom Train No. 5, and now the Burgoo Boys and Uncle June's Boys send along a song about The Hillbilly Beast of Kentuck! As legends go, there can be a particle of truth in them, and in the case of Chuck Wagon, it'd be more like a molecule! While there are legends floating around about phantom or ghost trains, the details he relates in his song are not reliable. Let's just say he's a known spinner of tall tales strictly out of his imagination. The Burgoo Boys featuring Uncle June's Jug Band is more of an unknown example. Of course they are more than capable of telling a 'whopper', but we did Googlefy their legend, and there is some info about it found here. The song is somewhat tongue in cheek, with the band playing the appropriate low sounds with a tuba and trombone, with Uncle June's distinctive voice telling the tale!
Daniel Boone
The beast has also been called the Bigfoot of Kentucky, and is comparable in many ways. Many folk lores from different cultures and countries have their own folklore of a giant creature that lives in the forest. The Hillbilly Beast traces its origin (as much as it can be traced) back to pre-colonial times with Native American tribes. These myths were passed down to colonists, and were influenced by their own cultures. Daniel Boone, the early settler, explorer and statesman in Kentucky (who is a legendary figure himself) allegedly shot one to death when it charged his camp. The creature was immediately (and conveniently) buried so as not to cause alarm and fear with others in the camp. This story spread and was retold, and as humans like to one-up each other when telling a story, grew to mythical proportions.
In the Eastern part of Kentuck The foothills of Appalachia Lives a horror in the forest Out in the boondocks of nature
Some say it is just a myth A legend of the hill folk I ain't seen one, oh
no never For some the myth ain't no joke!
The Hillbilly Beast of Kentuck! Horrible stink with yeller eye Hoots and growls in the forest All hairy and ten foot high
It weighs over 800 pound Daniel Boone himself kilt one! It's a horror passed down the line From Grampaw, to father, to son!
Uses its hairy fist to bang on trees Can smell it a mile away! I ain't seen one, oh
no never Thems seen it, won't go away
The Hillbilly Beast of Kentuck! Horrible stink with yeller eye Hoots and growls in the forest All hairy and ten foot high
Ya'll can believe that if ya want But for me that just can't be Go sit at night in the forest No tellin' what yer gonna see
Could be a local hill folk Dressed in a hairy suit to fit Or maybe an ol' black bear Fixin' to take a big shit!
But it makes for a good yarn 'Round a campfire fur the young'uns To pass on all the folklore To yer daughters and yer sons...
The Hillbilly Beast of Kentuck! Horrible stink with yeller eye Hoots and growls in the forest All hairy and ten foot high
Whether ya'll call it the Hillbilly Beast, Sasquatch, Yeti, Abominable Snowman, Or Bigfoot, every culture's got a tale that amounts to the same
thing... A figmentation of the imagination!
The Hillbilly Beast of Kentuck! Horrible stink with yeller eye Hoots and growls in the forest All hairy and ten foot high
The fiesta de quinceañera is a celebration in Latin American countries on the 15th birthday of a female child. It is a passage of her life from childhood to womanhood, and like many Latin American traditions has its roots in the Catholic Church as well as ancient rites of passage of the indigenous people in the area. There also the influence of the Spanish court from the era when Spain held many of the Latin American and South American countries. As the Spanish court held lavish balls, so did the tradition follow that the honoree 15 year olds would wear formal gowns. It is similar to the debutante balls that were popular in the 18th century in Europe and mainly England. Debutante balls still occur in England, and in the U.S. especially the South.
In earlier times, it signaled the rite of girls to act and dress like a woman. The celebrations were used as an opportunity for girls to meet men as they were considered of marrying age. Modern times have changed the celebration from that, as 15 no longer is considered of marrying age in most areas.
The fiesta de quinceañera is especially prevalent in Mexico and in the U.S. that have hispanic populations. They can be quite lavish, with the young woman dressed in a long formal gown and adorned with lots of jewelry and makeup. The festivities usually begin in the church with a mass of thanksgiving, and followed by a reception where all the guests are seated and the quinceañera makes a grand entrance. A toast is made by the parents or godparents, then the girl is introduced by her father. The first dance, usually a waltz, is danced by the father and the girl. Traditionally girls under 15 were not allowed to dance, so this also symbolizes her coming of age, and in some festivals the dance after the first waltz is quite elaborate and choreographed.
Un Grupo de Mexicali was hired to play and commissioned to compose an original waltz for the first dance for a family in Mexicali, Mexico. They joined forces with an orchestra, and sent a recording to us in a version that includes verses in English for their non-Spanish speaking fans in the U.S.!
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 ChuckWagon 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!
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 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 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...
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!