<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32960113</id><updated>2011-04-21T16:21:07.204-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Huckleberry Songs</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://huckleberrysongs.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32960113/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://huckleberrysongs.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Zach Fried</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>1</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32960113.post-9185961167536224667</id><published>2008-01-09T18:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-04-20T13:22:56.261-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Huckleberry Songs</title><content type='html'>April 20, 2008: These songs were copyrighted by me in 1991, in an unpublished collection entitled "Shawangunk Mountain Folktunes." Two of them are published with complete musical notation in two of my books: "Fire on the Mountain" in &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Shawangunk: Adventure, Exploration, History and Epiphany from a Mountain Wilderness&lt;/span&gt; (pp. 36-38) and "Blue Gold of Shawangunk Mountain" in &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Huckleberry Pickers&lt;/span&gt; (pp. 158-60). The music for the other 4 songs may be made available by contacting me at (845) 895-3756. Musicians should feel free to perform these songs, though not to record them for commercial purposes.&lt;br /&gt;    Of my five published books of history/nature writing: images, description and ordering information for the four that are still in print may be viewed at www.klyneesopusmuseum.org by clicking "Museum Shop" and scrolling down to "Recommended Reading."&lt;br /&gt;    I perform these songs, accompanied by folk-musician Bob Lusk, at the annual Shawangunk Mountain Wild Blueberry and Huckleberry Festival in Ellenville, N.Y. in late August (for more info, contact Ellenville/Wawarsing Chamber of Commerce).&lt;br /&gt;    Note regarding the website you are now viewing: It was created several years ago by Bob Lusk, who informed me after the fact. Since I am not myself online, and I find use of the internet difficult and often annoying, I have not taken the opportunity to examine, edit and make corrections until now. From this date forward, I take responsibility for the accuracy and integrity of the content.&lt;br /&gt;                                ---Marc B. Fried&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                           Huckleberry Songs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oscar and Evelyn"&lt;br /&gt;c 1991 by Marc B. Fried&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chorus A:&lt;br /&gt;Oscar and Evelyn, raising the devil in&lt;br /&gt;them huckleberry mountains up along the Stony Kill,&lt;br /&gt;if someday down that road you tramp on by the berrypickers' camp&lt;br /&gt;and you look real close, perhaps you’ll see them there still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chorus B:&lt;br /&gt;Oscar and Evelyn, such a pair there’s never been,&lt;br /&gt;raising berrypicking hell and making merry fit to kill,&lt;br /&gt;though they’ve been gone for many a year, if you listen closely you might hear&lt;br /&gt;them carrying on yonder on that huckleberry hill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.&lt;br /&gt;He’d never met his match before, they met each other in the war,&lt;br /&gt;she followed him back home and there she fancied what she saw,&lt;br /&gt;each summer on those rocky heights and round the campfire summer nights&lt;br /&gt;she shared the life and soon was Oscar’s wife in common law.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Notorious but loved by all and glorious before their fall,&lt;br /&gt;though Evelyn, she cooked and cleaned and served the family well,&lt;br /&gt;Oscar sought inebriation, Evelyn slept all 'round creation,&lt;br /&gt;soon they had a reputation for raising holy hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Chorus A &amp;amp; B)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.&lt;br /&gt;She was Oscar’s only lover, he shared her with his pa and brother,&lt;br /&gt;she got to know the whole family in an intimate sort of way,&lt;br /&gt;and when Oscar was asleep from too much liquor, she got to know every other berrypicker,&lt;br /&gt;respectable folks would shake their heads and this is what they’d say:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Chorus B: - 1st two lines, then 2-bar instrumental, then final 2 lines.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.&lt;br /&gt;One dark night, as I been told, driving down the old turnpike road&lt;br /&gt;Miss Decker saw a shape that made her give her horn a blow ([pause]..."beep! beep!")&lt;br /&gt;What she thought she saw made her aghast, a male and female dog “stuck fast,”&lt;br /&gt;luckily for them she was driving purdy slow,...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it was Oscar and Evelyn, with a jug of wine between,&lt;br /&gt;sittin' in that road, they rose and slowly walked away,&lt;br /&gt;and the two of them never heard no more 'bout what they’d been mistaken for,&lt;br /&gt;but the tale’s been passed around and down until this very day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Chorus A&amp;amp;B)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.&lt;br /&gt;After twenty years went by she left him for another guy,&lt;br /&gt;though Oscar’s heart was broke it took him twelve more years to croak,&lt;br /&gt;though Oscar’s liver passed the test, eventually he was laid to rest&lt;br /&gt;behind a picket fence, beneath the Stony Kill sky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Evelyn spent five more years living in this vale of tears,&lt;br /&gt;some say she lost her spunk and that she never more got drunk,&lt;br /&gt;but when she finally up and died, she was laid to rest beside&lt;br /&gt;Oscar and his family, reunited in their biers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Chorus B [Repeat second half with retard])&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mary Crose"&lt;br /&gt;c 1991 by Marc B. Fried&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chorus:&lt;br /&gt;Oh, Mary Crose, they loved you most for your chickens and your roasts,&lt;br /&gt;for your puddin' and your pie, your musk melon, my-oh-my,…&lt;br /&gt;and whoever wandered in was fed a dinner for a king,&lt;br /&gt;such hospitality was shown, your house was everybody’s home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, Mary Crose, she had cows, she had chickens in her barn,&lt;br /&gt;she had good things a'coming from her kitchen and her farm,….&lt;br /&gt;for the stranger or the friend, there was vittles without end,&lt;br /&gt;and they all loved you so true, they named a mountain after you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.&lt;br /&gt;She was born Mary Caston in a place called Greenfield&lt;br /&gt;in the year eighteen hundred six-ty,&lt;br /&gt;and she married Caleb Crose, but he turned out to be a louse,&lt;br /&gt;so she soon kicked him out and replaced him with a kraut,&lt;br /&gt;a man named Fisher, they lived happily together&lt;br /&gt;and they’re buried side by side in the cemetery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Chorus)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.&lt;br /&gt;When she was just a tyke, a rattlesnake took a bite,&lt;br /&gt;or so has the story been said,&lt;br /&gt;so she had a wooden leg, and she wore it to bed,&lt;br /&gt;for inside it her money was hid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Round about in back, she had tarpaper shacks,&lt;br /&gt;so high above the valley below,&lt;br /&gt;and when times was bad, there was work to be had,&lt;br /&gt;picking berries for Mary Crose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Chorus)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.&lt;br /&gt;Mary passed from this world one New Year’s Day,&lt;br /&gt;her work on Earth was done,&lt;br /&gt;but the huckleberry pickers didn’t move away,&lt;br /&gt;they was having too much fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was music and singing, a'dancin' and a'jiggin'&lt;br /&gt;and the hooch often flowed like a fountain,&lt;br /&gt;and even today people talk of the place&lt;br /&gt;as Mary Crose’s Mountain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Last chorus: second half only, with retard toward end.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Old Bill Punch"&lt;br /&gt;c 1991 by Marc B. Fried&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Old Bill Punch, he had better pack a lunch&lt;br /&gt;if he’s gonna try and wait to get in that pearly gate,&lt;br /&gt;for all the fightin’ and the drinkin' he done,&lt;br /&gt;I bet he’s friends with the devil and still having his fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.&lt;br /&gt;He was a millstone cutter and a blacksmith too&lt;br /&gt;and he sure did like his likker,&lt;br /&gt;and when summertime come, just for the fun&lt;br /&gt;he was a huckleberry picker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bill loved the life of the berrypickers' camp&lt;br /&gt;way up at the Five Mile Post,&lt;br /&gt;though he liked to breathe that fresh mountain air,&lt;br /&gt;he liked the fightin' and the drinkin' the most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Chorus)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.&lt;br /&gt;When Bill was young and full of fun&lt;br /&gt;he was awful hard on his women,&lt;br /&gt;to be his wife for even part of his life&lt;br /&gt;was not an easy living.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bill played the mouth organ and the Jew’s harp too,&lt;br /&gt;oh , he loved to jig and frolic,&lt;br /&gt;but of all these things, what he loved best to do&lt;br /&gt;was to be an alcoholic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Chorus)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.&lt;br /&gt;When Bill was already old, he was walking up the road&lt;br /&gt;and he fell off the bridge into the water,&lt;br /&gt;he ended up in bed with a broken leg&lt;br /&gt;and his jiggin' days was over.&lt;br /&gt;Old Bill lived to be eight-four,&lt;br /&gt;and he still knew how to raise hell,&lt;br /&gt;for all my clean living I just wanna say&lt;br /&gt;I hope to hell I can do as well!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Chorus)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. (ad lib)&lt;br /&gt;Now that he’s dead... it must be said...&lt;br /&gt;if the truth is to be told,...&lt;br /&gt;for all his errant ways, Bill was loved by all...&lt;br /&gt;for he had a heart of gold...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(a tempo)&lt;br /&gt;Old Bill Punch, with his good luck&lt;br /&gt;I bet he made it into heaven somehow,&lt;br /&gt;where he’s dancin' the jig and playin' the harp&lt;br /&gt;In Gabriel’s band right now&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(End with 4 bars instrumental)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The Countrymen, the Quicks, and the Conklins"&lt;br /&gt;c 1991 by Marc B. Fried&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chorus A:&lt;br /&gt;Oh, the Countrymen, the Quicks and the Conklins&lt;br /&gt;are all kin to one another, intermarried twixt and tween…&lt;br /&gt;'twas something in their blood made all them answer that ol' mountain's call,&lt;br /&gt;and huckleberries were their destiny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chorus B:&lt;br /&gt;Oh, the Countrymen, the Quicks, and the Conklins&lt;br /&gt;are intermarried twixt and tween, they’re a genealogist's dream.&lt;br /&gt;They worked to fill those berry crates, tried not to step on rattlesnakes,...&lt;br /&gt;while they spread the branches of their family tree.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.&lt;br /&gt;Now, Sarah married Louis Rose 'bout eighteen forty-four,&lt;br /&gt;they had Catherine, Mary, Julia, Ben and many, many more,&lt;br /&gt;Catherine wed Jim Countryman, their sons were Mead and Bill&lt;br /&gt;and they all were berrypickers, living on the Stony Kill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When brother Ben got married, oh, so many offspring sprung&lt;br /&gt;that you wonder how poor Carrie ever got the diapers done,&lt;br /&gt;sister Mary wed George Crawford, and from their daughter Liz&lt;br /&gt;came the Countrymen’s cousins, the Quicks and Addices.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Chorus A with revisions:)&lt;br /&gt;Twas something passed down in their genes made mountain folks of all, it seems&lt;br /&gt;and huckleberries were their destiny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Chorus B with revisions:)&lt;br /&gt;All those cousins, uncs and aunties living in tarpaper shanties&lt;br /&gt;spread the branches of their family tree&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.&lt;br /&gt;Julia Rose wed George Conklin, and several sons they got,&lt;br /&gt;and they all picked huckleberries way up on that mountain top,&lt;br /&gt;they had a daughter Laura, she was just a child when&lt;br /&gt;she disappeared while picking berries and was never seen again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One son’s name was Benjamin, Maude Donnely he wed,&lt;br /&gt;I guess she had a problem with bedbugs in her bed,&lt;br /&gt;she cleaned it with some gasoline, an unfortunate thing to do,&lt;br /&gt;and they all blew up together, Maude and her bedbugs too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Chorus A with revisions:)&lt;br /&gt;From childhood years till old and gray the mountain was their work and play,&lt;br /&gt;and huckleberries were their destiny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Chorus B with revisions:)&lt;br /&gt;They'd pick those berries, sweet and blue, then treat themselves to mountain dew&lt;br /&gt;and spread the branches of their family tree&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.&lt;br /&gt;Joseph married Harriet and later wed Salina,&lt;br /&gt;and Joe and Harriet had Addie, who wed Abraham,&lt;br /&gt;Abe and Addie begat Minnie, she wed Thomas, they had many,&lt;br /&gt;that’s how one branch of the Conklins began.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joseph and Salina, they had Alice, who wed Jack,&lt;br /&gt;and they didn’t waste no time before they began to begat,&lt;br /&gt;all the brats of Jack and Alice married those of Min and Thomas,&lt;br /&gt;that's the way the branches of the Conklin tree ran.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, the Countrymen are kin to the Quicks (what a mix!)&lt;br /&gt;and the Conklins, oh brother, they’re all married to each other...&lt;br /&gt;and one of them that I once saw, they say he was his own grandpaw...&lt;br /&gt;(ritard:) and his family tree had great complexity!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Fire on the Mountain"&lt;br /&gt;c 1991 by Marc B. Fried&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chorus:&lt;br /&gt;Oh, it’s time for a fire on the mountain&lt;br /&gt;'cause the pickin’s gettin' slow,&lt;br /&gt;and the berries’ll do better in any kind of weather&lt;br /&gt;if they have more room to grow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, it’s time for a blaze on the mountain&lt;br /&gt;'cause the brush is growing higher,&lt;br /&gt;when the berry picking’s slow you can make more dough&lt;br /&gt;working to put out the fire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes they just used paper and a match&lt;br /&gt;but they had more ingenious ways,&lt;br /&gt;sometimes they used an old box turtle&lt;br /&gt;to set the woods ablaze:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They would drill a hole in the back of his shell&lt;br /&gt;and tie on a twenty-foot string,&lt;br /&gt;and on the other end would be a burlap bag&lt;br /&gt;all soaked in kerosene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Chorus)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.&lt;br /&gt;The mountain burned over in ‘twenty-three,&lt;br /&gt;they say the fire really spread around,&lt;br /&gt;and afterward the berries grew beautifully&lt;br /&gt;as they do on burnt over ground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It burned another time in July of thirty-nine,&lt;br /&gt;there’s many remember them days,&lt;br /&gt;and there’s many that remember all the cash they earned&lt;br /&gt;workin' to put out the blaze.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Chorus)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.&lt;br /&gt;A bigger fire even was in forty-seven,&lt;br /&gt;It happened in October,&lt;br /&gt;with the picking season done the berrypickers had their fun,&lt;br /&gt;and the whole mountain ridge burned over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it’s been many years since the mountain's been ablaze&lt;br /&gt;and the birch and the maple tree&lt;br /&gt;grow where huckleberry bushes and scrub pitch pine&lt;br /&gt;grew as far as the eye could see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(No chorus)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. (three lines ad lib [talk it], fourth line a tempo.)&lt;br /&gt;Now the berrypicking camps have all passed on,...&lt;br /&gt;they ain’t never coming back,...&lt;br /&gt;and many grieve for that day…when you could get away…&lt;br /&gt;with being a pyromaniac! Oh,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Concluding chorus)&lt;br /&gt;It’s time for a fire on the mountain&lt;br /&gt;'cause the pickin’s getting slow,&lt;br /&gt;and the berries fare well, they bear like hell&lt;br /&gt;if they have space to grow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, it’s time for a fire on the mountain,&lt;br /&gt;it’s getting too overgrown for me…&lt;br /&gt;(ad lib)&lt;br /&gt;but I guess many folks now… don’t seem to care, somehow…&lt;br /&gt;(a tempo)&lt;br /&gt;when they can sit home and watch TV!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Conclude with four bars of music from last four bars of verse.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The Blue Gold of Shawangunk Mountain"&lt;br /&gt;c 1991 by Marc B. Fried&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note: the name is locally pronounced "SHONG-gum," which also works better in this song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.&lt;br /&gt;Carry me back to that time of long ago,&lt;br /&gt;to the tarpaper shack all the old folks know,&lt;br /&gt;to the life they lived, seeking high and low&lt;br /&gt;the blue gold of Shawangunk Mountain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.&lt;br /&gt;In those rocky wilds, there I’ll always be,&lt;br /&gt;there a hundred miles of the Earth you’ll see,&lt;br /&gt;where a hundred years folks sought eagerly&lt;br /&gt;the blue gold of Shawangunk Mountain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.&lt;br /&gt;They wandered all through these hills and swales,&lt;br /&gt;from a carpet of blue they would fill their pails,&lt;br /&gt;they’ve told me their stories, they’ve told me the tales&lt;br /&gt;of the blue gold of Shawangunk Mountain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.&lt;br /&gt;When the hour grew late, back to camp they’d come,&lt;br /&gt;round the fire they sat when their work was done,&lt;br /&gt;in the spirits they drank and the songs they’ve sung&lt;br /&gt;was the blue gold of Shawangunk Mountain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(5. &amp;amp; 6. Instrumental)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.&lt;br /&gt;Some came from near just below the mountainside,&lt;br /&gt;some traveled here from afar and wide&lt;br /&gt;to return each year to their camps beside&lt;br /&gt;the blue gold of Shawangunk Mountain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.&lt;br /&gt;The rattlin' snake and the ol' black bear,&lt;br /&gt;the porcupine too and the snowshoe hare&lt;br /&gt;were their neighbors in the wild where&lt;br /&gt;grew the blue gold of Shawangunk Mountain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.&lt;br /&gt;The summer sun that burned so hot,&lt;br /&gt;the mountain fire racing cross the mountaintop,&lt;br /&gt;these were part of the life of those who got&lt;br /&gt;the blue gold of Shawangunk Mountain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.&lt;br /&gt;The thundershower and the cooling breeze,&lt;br /&gt;the towhee singing from the tupelo trees,&lt;br /&gt;these were also their memories,&lt;br /&gt;gatherin' blue gold on Shawangunk Mountain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(11. instrumental music as in verse 3)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12.&lt;br /&gt;Oh, carry me back to that time of long ago,&lt;br /&gt;to the tarpaper shack all the old folks know,&lt;br /&gt;to the life they loved, seeking high and low&lt;br /&gt;(ritard)&lt;br /&gt;the blue gold of Shawangunk Mountain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note: this final song is an adaptation or revision of a song I heard out in Arkansas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Chicken Truck"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.&lt;br /&gt;One fine day I was headed out from New Paltz,&lt;br /&gt;I was driving west to enjoy that mountain view,&lt;br /&gt;I got stuck behind a chicken truck where the road begins to climb,&lt;br /&gt;and 30 mph was all that he could do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now his springs were bad, and the chickens were a'bouncing,&lt;br /&gt;and a terrible smell was about to upchuck me,&lt;br /&gt;the feathers kept sticking to my windshield,&lt;br /&gt;and the further we went, the harder it got to see.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chorus:&lt;br /&gt;Chicken truck, chicken truck, just my luck, chicken truck, chicken truck, behind him I'm stuck&lt;br /&gt;on highway 44 &amp;amp; 55,&lt;br /&gt;all the hens were squawking and the roosters were crowing, they were flapping and flopping and                                                                                                                        the feathers were a'blowing,&lt;br /&gt;every one of them birds was still alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.&lt;br /&gt;Now we've got a lot of curvy roads in the Shawangunk Mountains,&lt;br /&gt;nearly every one's got a double yellow line,&lt;br /&gt;if you ever get stuck behind a --big chicken truck,&lt;br /&gt;for the next few miles you just can't make no time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Chorus)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.&lt;br /&gt;At Minnewaska I finally pulled along side him,&lt;br /&gt;and I looked up at the driver next to me,&lt;br /&gt;he had a box of Colonel Sanders on the dashboard,&lt;br /&gt;he was eating fried chicken and chucking them bones at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chicken truck, chicken truck, just my luck, chicken truck, chicken truck, behind him I'm stuck&lt;br /&gt;On highway 44 &amp;amp; 55,&lt;br /&gt;all the hens were squawking and the roosters were crowing, he was bouncing along just as slow                                                                                                                                          as he could go, and&lt;br /&gt;every one of them birds but one was still alive,&lt;br /&gt;and it's bones lay there on highway44 and 55.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/32960113-9185961167536224667?l=huckleberrysongs.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://huckleberrysongs.blogspot.com/feeds/9185961167536224667/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=32960113&amp;postID=9185961167536224667' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32960113/posts/default/9185961167536224667'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/32960113/posts/default/9185961167536224667'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://huckleberrysongs.blogspot.com/2008/01/huckleberry-songs-ii.html' title='Huckleberry Songs'/><author><name>Marc B. Fried</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13337098998067250223</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
