John Wesley Harding

I dreamed i saw st. augustine,
Alive as you or me,
Tearing through these quarters
In the utmost misery,
With a blanket underneath his arm
And a coat of solid gold,
Searching for the very souls
Whom already have been sold.

"arise, arise," he cried so loud,
In a voice without restraint,
"come out, ye gifted kings and queens
And hear my sad complaint.
No martyr is among ye now
Whom you can call your own,
So go on your way accordingly
But know you're not alone."

I dreamed i saw st. augustine,
Alive with fiery breath,
And i dreamed i was amongst the ones
That put him out to death.
Oh, i awoke in anger,
So alone and terrified,
I put my fingers against the glass
And bowed my head and cried.

Well, frankie lee and judas priest,
They were the best of friends.
So when frankie lee needed money one day,
Judas quickly pulled out a roll of tens
And placed them on a footstool
Just above the plotted plain,
Sayin', "take your pick, frankie boy,
My loss will be your gain."

Well, frankie lee, he sat right down
And put his fingers to his chin,
But with the cold eyes of judas on him,
His head began to spin.
"would ya please not stare at me like that," he said,
"it's just my foolish pride,
But sometimes a man must be alone
And this is no place to hide."

Well, judas, he just winked and said,
"all right, i'll leave you here,
But you'd better hurry up and choose
Which of those bills you want,
Before they all disappear."
"i'm gonna start my pickin' right now,
Just tell me where you'll be."

Judas pointed down the road
And said, "eternity!"
"eternity?" said frankie lee,
With a voice as cold as ice.
"that's right," said judas priest, "eternity,
Though you might call it 'paradise.'"

"i don't call it anything,"
Said frankie lee with a smile.
"all right," said judas priest,
"i'll see you after a while."

Well, frankie lee, he sat back down,
Feelin' low and mean,
When just then a passing stranger
Burst upon the scene,
Saying, "are you frankie lee, the gambler,
Whose father is deceased?
Well, if you are,
There's a fellow callin' you down the road
And they say his name is priest."

"oh, yes, he is my friend,"
Said frankie lee in fright,
"i do recall him very well,
In fact, he just left my sight."
"yes, that's the one," said the stranger,
As quiet as a mouse,
"well, my message is, he's down the road,
Stranded in a house."

Well, frankie lee, he panicked,
He dropped ev'rything and ran
Until he came up to the spot
Where judas priest did stand.
"what kind of house is this," he said,
"where i have come to roam?"
"it's not a house," said judas priest,
"it's not a house . . . it's a home."

Well, frankie lee, he trembled,
He soon lost all control
Over ev'rything which he had made
While the mission bells did toll.
He just stood there staring
At that big house as bright as any sun,
With four and twenty windows
And a woman's face in ev'ry one.

Well, up the stairs ran frankie lee
With a soulful, bounding leap,
And, foaming at the mouth,
He began to make his midnight creep.
For sixteen nights and days he raved,
But on the seventeenth he burst
Into the arms of judas priest,
Which is where he died of thirst.

No one tried to say a thing
When they took him out in jest,
Except, of course, the little neighbor boy
Who carried him to rest.
And he just walked along, alone,
With his guilt so well concealed,
And muttered underneath his breath,
"nothing is revealed."

Well, the moral of the story,
The moral of this song,
Is simply that one should never be
Where one does not belong.
So when you see your neighbor carryin' somethin',
Help him with his load,
And don't go mistaking paradise
For that home across the road.

"there must be some way out of here," said the joker to the thief,
"there's too much confusion, i can't get no relief.
Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth,
None of them along the line know what any of it is worth."

"no reason to get excited," the thief, he kindly spoke,
"there are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke.
But you and i, we've been through that, and this is not our fate,
So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late."

All along the watchtower, princes kept the view
While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too.

Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl,
Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl.

John wesley harding
Was a friend to the poor,
He trav'led with a gun in ev'ry hand.
All along this countryside,
He opened a many a door,
But he was never known
To hurt a honest man.

'twas down in chaynee county,
A time they talk about,
With his lady by his side
He took a stand.
And soon the situation there
Was all but straightened out,
For he was always known
To lend a helping hand.

All across the telegraph
His name it did resound,
But no charge held against him
Could they prove.
And there was no man around
Who could track or chain him down,
He was never known
To make a foolish move.

I am a lonesome hobo
Without family or friends,
Where another man's life might begin,
That's exactly where mine ends.
I have tried my hand at bribery,
Blackmail and deceit,
And i've served time for ev'rything
'cept beggin' on the street.

Well, once i was rather prosperous,
There was nothing i did lack.
I had fourteen-karat gold in my mouth
And silk upon my back.
But i did not trust my brother,
I carried him to blame,
Which led me to my fatal doom,
To wander off in shame.

Kind ladies and kind gentlemen,
Soon i will be gone,
But let me just warn you all,
Before i do pass on;
Stay free from petty jealousies,
Live by no man's code,
And hold your judgment for yourself
Lest you wind up on this road.

As i went out one morning
To breathe the air around tom paine's,
I spied the fairest damsel
That ever did walk in chains.
I offer'd her my hand,
She took me by the arm.
I knew that very instant,
She meant to do me harm.

"depart from me this moment,"
I told her with my voice.
Said she, "but i don't wish to,"
Said i, "but you have no choice."
"i beg you, sir," she pleaded
From the corners of her mouth,
"i will secretly accept you
And together we'll fly south."

Just then tom paine, himself,
Came running from across the field,
Shouting at this lovely girl
And commanding her to yield.
And as she was letting go her grip,
Up tom paine did run,
"i'm sorry, sir," he said to me,
"i'm sorry for what she's done."