Tugboat Jackson - The Crows

Tugboat Jackson continues with his songs that are similar to protest songs of the 1960's. They deal with some constants in human existence to particulars of the modern age. This song is an apocalyptic vision of when Earth is destroyed by greed, and gets so uninhabitable, even the most opportunistic of animals, crows, are no longer in existence. All that's left is mud, bugs, and slugs. Tugboat has gotten a lot of criticism for his content, and probably just as much positive comment for the content. But there's no disagreement about his quality of guitar playing. 

He's one of the most recorded artists here at Big And Tall Records, and it looks like there's no letting up!  It's hard to tell what motivates Tugger to go to all the effort and work to record these songs of social protest and content. He's worked hard all his life, still works part time in his old hardware store that he sold to his son, is semi-retired. He could just sit back, go fishin' and take life easy and no one would blame him. But he's got the inner fire still burning brightly within him, and we're proud to have him as one of the artists that has chosen Big And Tall Records as his recording company!

Bit after bit, it’s the same damn shit 

Don’t seem to learn nothin’ from the past 

I got a desire, are you for hire 

Or shall I just take it from you at last 

 

Might be a port, or a resort 

But if one wants it they get it any way 

Could be in store, yet another war 

Don’t matter, I want it my way! 

 

It’ll keep goin’ ‘til the earth 

Is drenched in blood 

Tell me, what is that worth 

To turn our planet into mud 

 

So many societies, are built over bodies 

It’ll take a way your breath 

Ain’t no fun to take a life with a gun 

And cause so much senseless death 

 

 It’s the same ol’ swill, the king of the hill 

Calls the shots, takes what they want 

Ain’t no bother, if ya slay each other 

It’s all the power they flaunt 

 

 Not enough left to bury ‘em, 

Leave it all for the crows 

And whatever else eats carrion 

The river of blood flows 

 

When they’ve finally stole, enough for their goal 

They have everything of their own 

They’ve played the fool, nothin’ left to rule 

Even the crows have flown 

 

All that’s left are the bugs, the snakes and the slugs 

Everything else will swiftly die 

But they’ll do the same thing, 

make their pocket book sing 

But there’s nothing left to buy 

 

They don’t know any better thing 

Gotta be something else to fight 

Bugs, snakes, garbage, and filth 

Might finally make it right I

 

 could call them sons of bitches 

But that's not strong enough 

Can't think of a word or phrase 

To degrade all their stuff 

 

Finally resort to ask God 

how could we afford 

Why were they allowed to be ruling 

But God only said as he hung his head 

 

Sorry son, wasn't none of my doin'.....