Old Joe January by Crux Lyrics
Old Joe January put a tack inside my boot
He pawned Melinda’s dollhose for his 1,000 dollar suit
I’ve been hollering all morning, since that icy sun come up
I’d take a swig of whiskey, but that bastard stole my cup
And last month for Christmas, my pa got a new shotgun
Got a notion to go fetch it, gawd knows that poor fool he better run
People call me Freddie and I’m every mother’s son
But when Old Joe spits tobacco at my sister just for fun
I start a’feeling nasty, got that venom in my veins
I disappear, I’m drinking beer, I’m sitting in the rain
And I see my field a flooding, rising high with mud
And I see that train a’coming, rolling with it’s boxcars painted shut
Straight through town runs that old freight line
Just like my brain and my veins and my spine
And I lay face down in the mud to pray
The sun will rise but not… today
Old Joe January tied a rocket to my mule
He dirtied up my garden hose from siphoning my fuel
He broke the strings on my guitar, he can’t even play
He stole my hog and shaved my dog and ate my birthday cake
So fellas bang them banjos, ladies make your washboards whine
I’ll be fifteen hounds a-howling, hollering from in them lonesome pines
Well, Old Joe January got arrested in the spring
But I know he did not do it, he was busy stealing my TV
Now he’s headed up the Hudson, foot on that lonesome trail
And I’m headed to the station to pay that fucker’s bail
And I see my field a flooding, rising high with mud
And I see that train a-coming, I reach down for my ticket stub
He pawned Melinda’s dollhose for his 1,000 dollar suit
I’ve been hollering all morning, since that icy sun come up
I’d take a swig of whiskey, but that bastard stole my cup
And last month for Christmas, my pa got a new shotgun
Got a notion to go fetch it, gawd knows that poor fool he better run
People call me Freddie and I’m every mother’s son
But when Old Joe spits tobacco at my sister just for fun
I start a’feeling nasty, got that venom in my veins
I disappear, I’m drinking beer, I’m sitting in the rain
And I see my field a flooding, rising high with mud
And I see that train a’coming, rolling with it’s boxcars painted shut
Straight through town runs that old freight line
Just like my brain and my veins and my spine
And I lay face down in the mud to pray
The sun will rise but not… today
Old Joe January tied a rocket to my mule
He dirtied up my garden hose from siphoning my fuel
He broke the strings on my guitar, he can’t even play
He stole my hog and shaved my dog and ate my birthday cake
So fellas bang them banjos, ladies make your washboards whine
I’ll be fifteen hounds a-howling, hollering from in them lonesome pines
Well, Old Joe January got arrested in the spring
But I know he did not do it, he was busy stealing my TV
Now he’s headed up the Hudson, foot on that lonesome trail
And I’m headed to the station to pay that fucker’s bail
And I see my field a flooding, rising high with mud
And I see that train a-coming, I reach down for my ticket stub