Frank And Jesse James
Warren Zevon
© 1973 Warner-Tamerlane/Darkroom Music (BMI)
Waddy Wachtel: Guitar
David Lindley: Banjo & Fiddle
Warren Zevon: Piano
Bob Glaub: Bass
Larry Zack: Drums
Phil Everly: Harmonies
On a small Missouri farm
Back when the west was young
Two boys learned to rope and ride
Be handy with a gun
War broke out between the states
And they joined up with Quantrill
And it was over in Clay County
Frank and Jesse finally learned to kill
Keep on riding, riding, riding
Frank and Jesse James
Keep on riding, riding, riding
'Til you clear your names
Keep on riding, riding, riding
Across the rivers and the range
Keep on riding, riding, riding
Frank and Jesse James
After Appomattox
They was on the losing side
So no amnesty was granted
And as outlaws they did ride
They rode against the railroads,
And they rode against the banks
And they rode against the governor
Never did they ask for a word of thanks
Keep on riding, riding, riding
Frank and Jesse James
Keep on riding, riding, riding
'Til you clear your names
Keep on riding, riding, riding
‘Cross the prairies and the plains
Keep on riding, riding, riding
Frank and Jesse James
Robert Ford, a gunman
In exchange for his parole
Took the life of James the outlaw
Which he snuck up on and stole
No one knows just where
They came to be misunderstood
But the poor Missouri farmers knew
That Frank and Jesse do the best they could
Keep on riding, riding, riding
Frank and Jesse James
Keep on riding, riding, riding
'Til you clear your names
Keep on riding, riding, riding
Across the rivers and the range
Keep on riding, riding, riding
Frank and Jesse James
Well, Frank and Jesse James
Keep on riding, riding, riding
'Til you clear your names
Keep on riding, riding, riding
‘Cross the prairies and the plains
Keep on riding, riding, riding
Frank and Jesse James
Mama Couldn't Be Persuaded
Warren Zevon
© 1976 Zevon Music (BMI)
Waddy Wachtel: Guitar
David Lindley: Fiddle
Warren Zevon: Piano
Bob Glaub: Bass
Larry Zack: Drums
John David Souther and Jackson Browne: Harmonies
Gambler rambled down a country lane
Looking for a game of chance
She was twenty-one or two
And she knew what she wanted
And she wanted that gamblin' man
Her parents warned her
Tried to reason with her
She was determined that she wanted Bill
They'd all be offended at the mention still
If they heard this song, which I doubt they will
And my mama couldn't be persuaded
When they pleaded with her,
“Daughter, don't marry that gamblin' man”
Mama couldn't be persuaded
When they pleaded with her,
“Daughter, don't marry that gamblin' man”
Mama couldn't be persuaded
When they pleaded with her,
“Daughter, don't marry that gamblin' man”
(No, no nevertheless)
I said my mama couldn't be persuaded
When they pleaded with her,
"Daughter, don't marry that gamblin' man."
Gambler tried to be a family man
Though it didn't suit his style
He thought he had him a winning combination
So he took us where the stakes were high
Her parents warned her
Tried to reason with her
Never kept their disappointment hid
They all went to pieces when the bad luck hit
Stuck in the middle, I was the kid
And my mama couldn't be persuaded
When they pleaded with her,
“Daughter, don't marry that gamblin' man”
Mama couldn't be persuaded
When they pleaded with her,
“Daughter, don't marry that gamblin' man”
Mama couldn't be persuaded
When they pleaded with her,
No, no, nevertheless
My Mama Mama Mama couldn't be persuaded
When my Granny pleaded with her
Not to marry that gamblin' man.
I said my mama couldn't be persuaded
When they pleaded with her,
“Daughter, don't marry that gamblin' man”
Mama couldn't be persuaded
When they pleaded with her,
“Daughter, don't marry that gamblin' man”
Mama couldn't be persuaded
When they pleaded with her,
“Daughter, don't marry that gamblin' man”
Mama couldn't be persuaded
When they pleaded with her,
“Daughter, don't you marry that gamblin' man”
Backs Turned, Looking Down The Path
Warren Zevon
© 1976 Zevon Music (BMI)
Lindsey Buckingham: Guitar
Warren Zevon: Piano
Jackson Browne: Slide Guitar and Harmony
Marty David: Bass
Gary Mallaber: Drums
I was caught between the years
Cost me nearly all my tears
With my back turned, looking down the path
Hit me like a ton of bricks
Had to get my outlook fixed
With my back turned, looking down the path
People always ask me why
What's the matter with me?
Nothing matters when I'm with my baby
With my back turned, looking down the path
We'll go walkin' hand in hand
Laughin' fit to beat the band
With our backs turned, looking down the path
People always ask me why
What's the matter with me?
Nothing matters when I'm with my baby
With my back turned, looking down the path
Some may have, and some may not
God, I'm thankful for what I got
With my back turned, looking down the path
With my back turned, looking down the path
With my back turned, looking down the path
Hasten Down The Wind
Warren Zevon
© 1973 Warner-Tamerlane./Darkroom Music (BMI)
Waddy Wachtel: Guitar
David Lindley: Slide Guitar
Warren Zevon: Piano
Bob Glaub: Bass
Larry Zack: Drums
The Sid Sharp Strings
Phil Everly: Harmony
She tells him she thinks she needs to be free
He tells her he doesn't understand
She takes his hand
She tells him nothing's working out the way they planned
She's so many women
He can't find the one who was his friend
So he's hanging on to half her heart
He can't have the restless part
So he tells her to hasten down the wind
Then he agrees he thinks she needs to be free
Then she says she'd rather be with him
But it's just a whim
By which she hopes to keep him on the limb
She's so many women
He can't find the one who was his friend
So he's hanging on to half her heart
He can't have the restless part
So he tells her to hasten down the wind
She's so many women
He can't find the one who was his friend
So he's hanging on to half her heart
He can't have the restless part
So he tells her to hasten down the wind
Poor Poor Pitiful Me
Warren Zevon
© 1973 Warner-Tamerlane/Darkroom Music (BMI)
Waddy Wachtel: Guitar
David Lindley: Fiddle
Bobby Keys: Saxophone
Jai Winding: Piano
Bob Glaub: Bass
Larry Zack: Drums
Lindsey Buckingham: Harmony
I'd lay my head on the railroad tracks
And wait for the Double "E"
But the railroad don't run no more
Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me
These young girls won't let me be
Lord have mercy on me
Woe is me
Well, I met a girl in West Hollywood
I ain't naming names
She really worked me over good
She was just like Jesse James
She really worked me over good
She was a credit to her gender
She put me through some changes, Lord
Sort of like a Waring blender
Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me
These young girls won't let me be
Lord have mercy on me
Woe is me
Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me
These young girls won't let me be
Lord have mercy on me
Woe is me
I met a girl at the Rainbow bar
She asked me if I'd beat her
She took me back to the Hyatt House
I don't want to talk about it
(Hut!...)
Poor, poor pitiful me Whooooooo
Poor, poor pitiful me
Hut! Never mind. (Yeah)
Poor, poor pitiful me
Whooo-hooaaa, Yeah
Poor, poor pitiful me
Poor, poor pitiful me
The French Inhaler
Warren Zevon
© 1973 Warner-Tamerlane./Darkroom Music (BMI)
Waddy Wachtel: Guitar
Warren Zevon: Piano
Bob Glaub: Bass
Larry Zack: Drums
The Sid Sharp Strings
Glenn Frey and Don Henley: Harmonies
How're you going to make your way in the world, woman
When you weren't cut out for working,
When your fingers are slender and frail?
How're you going to get around
In this sleazy bedroom town
If you don't put yourself up for sale?
Where will you go with your scarves and your miracles?
Who's gonna know who you are?
Drugs and wine and flattering light
You must try it again ‘til you get it right
Maybe you'll end up with someone different every night
All these people with no home to go home to
They'd all like to spend the night with you
Maybe I would, too
But tell me
How're you going to make your way in the world, woman
When you weren't cut out for working
And you just can't concentrate
And you always show up late?
You said you were an actress
Yes, I believe you are
I thought you'd be a star
So I drank up all the money,
Yes, I drank up all the money,
With these phonies in this Hollywood bar,
These friends of mine in this Hollywood bar
Loneliness and frustration
We both came down with an acute case
And when the lights came up at two
I caught a glimpse of you
And your face looked like something
Death brought with him in his suitcase
Your pretty face
It looked so wasted
Another pretty face
Devastated
The French Inhaler
He stamped and mailed her
"So long, Norman"
She said, "So long, Norman"
Mohammed's Radio
Warren Zevon
© 1976 Zevon Music (BMI)
Waddy Wachtel: Guitar
David Lindley: Slide Guitar
Bobby Keys: Saxophone
Warren Zevon: Piano
Bob Glaub: Bass
Larry Zack: Drums
Lindsey Buckingham and Stephanie Nicks: Harmonies
Everybody's restless and they've got no place to go
Someone's always trying to tell them
Something they already know
So their anger and resentment flow
But don't it make you want to rock and roll
All night long, Mohammed's Radio
I heard somebody singing sweet and soulful
On the radio, Mohammed's Radio
You know, the Sheriff's got his problems too
He will surely take them out on you
In walks the village idiot and his face was all aglow
He's been up all night, listening to Mohammed's Radio
Don't it make you want to rock and roll
All night long, Mohammed's Radio
I heard somebody singing sweet and soulful
On the radio, Mohammed's Radio
Everybody's desperate trying to make ends meet
Work all day, still can't pay
The price of gasoline and meat
Alas, their lives are incomplete
Don't it make you want to rock and roll
All night long, Mohammed's Radio
I heard somebody singing sweet and soulful
On the radio, Mohammed's Radio
You've been up all night listening for his drum
(Up all night)
Hoping that the righteous might just might just might just come
(Just be right)
I heard the General whispering to his aide-de-camp
"Be watchful for Mohammed's lamp"
Don't it make you want to rock and roll
All night long Mohammed's Radio
I heard somebody singing sweet and soulful
On the radio, Mohammed's Radio
Mohammed's Radio
I'll Sleep When I'm Dead
Warren Zevon
© 1976 Zevon Music (BMI)
Waddy Wachtel: Guitar
Fritz Richmond: Jug
Warren Zevon: Piano and Harmonica
Roy Marinell: Bass
Gary Mallaber: Drums
Jorge Calderón: Harmony
So much to do, there's plenty on the farm
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Saturday night I like to raise a little harm
I'll sleep when I'm dead
I'm drinking heartbreak motor oil and Bombay gin
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Straight from the bottle, twisted again
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Alright!
Well, I take this medicine as prescribed
I'll sleep when I'm dead
It don't matter if I get a little tired
I'll sleep when I'm dead
I've got a .38 special up on the shelf
I'll sleep when I'm dead
If I start acting stupid, I'll shoot myself
I'll sleep when I'm dead
So much to do, there's plenty on the farm
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Saturday night I like to raise a little harm
I'll sleep when I'm dead
Alright!
Carmelita
Warren Zevon
© 1972 Warner-Tamerlane/Darkroom Music (BMI)
Waddy Wachtel: Guitar
David Lindley: Guitar
Glenn Frey: Rhythm Guitar and Harmony
Warren Zevon: Electric Piano
Bob Glaub: Bass
Larry Zack: Drums
I hear Mariachi static on my radio
And the tubes they glow in the dark
And I'm there with her in Ensenada
And I'm here in Echo Park
Carmelita, hold me tighter
I think I'm sinking down
And I'm all strung out on heroin
On the outskirts of town
Well, I'm sittin' here playing solitaire
With my pearl-handled deck
The county won't give me no more methadone
And they cut off your welfare check
Carmelita, hold me tighter
I think I'm sinking down
And I'm all strung out on heroin
On the outskirts of town
Well, I pawned my Smith-Corona
And I went to meet my man
He hangs out down on Alvarado Street
By the Pioneer Chicken stand
Carmelita, hold me tighter
I think I'm sinking down
And I'm all strung out on heroin
On the outskirts of town
Carmelita, hold me tighter
I think I'm sinking down
And I'm all strung out on heroin
On the outskirts of town
Join Me in L. A.
Warren Zevon
© 1973 Warner Tamerlane/Darkroom Music. (BMI)
Ned Doheny: Guitar
Warren Zevon: Rhythm Guitar
Bobby Keys: Saxophone
Jai Winding: Organ and Synthesizer
Jackson Browne: Piano
Bob Glaub: Bass
Larry Zack: Drums
Bonnie Raitt and Rosemary Butler: Harmonies
Well, they say this place is evil
That ain't why I stay
'Cause I found something
That will never be nothing
And I found it in L. A.
It was midnight in Topanga
(In Topanga)
I heard the DJ say
There's a full moon rising
Join me in L. A.
Join me in L. A.
(wake up . . . wake up)
I was at the Tropicana
On a dark and sultry day
Had to call somebody long distance
I said "Join me in L. A."
Join me in L. A.
Desperados Under The Eaves
Warren Zevon
© 1976 Warner-Tamerlane/Darkroom Music (BMI)
Waddy Wachtel: Guitar
Warren Zevon: Piano
Bob Glaub: Bass
Larry Zack: Drums
The Sid Sharp Strings
Carl Wilson, Billy Hinsche, Jai Winding, Jackson Browne and Warren Zevon: Harmonies
(arranged by Carl Wilson)
The Gentlemen Boys: Closing Harmonies
I was sitting in the Hollywood Hawaiian Hotel
I was staring in my empty coffee cup
I was thinking that the gypsy wasn't lyin'
All the salty margaritas in Los Angeles
I'm gonna drink 'em up
And if California slides into the ocean
Like the mystics and statistics say it will
I predict this motel will be standing
Until I pay my bill
(Hut...)
Don't the sun look angry through the trees?
Don't the trees look like crucified thieves?
Don't you feel like Desperados under the eaves?
Heaven help the one who leaves
Still waking up in the mornings with shaking hands
And I'm trying to find a girl who understands me
But except in dreams you're never really free
Don't the sun look angry at me?
I was sitting in the Hollywood Hawaiian Hotel
I was listening to the air conditioner hum
It went mmmmmm.. ...........................
Look away
(Look away down Gower Avenue, Look away....)