Black Jack Road by Mark David Manders Lyrics
Two miles past the graveyard near the fork in Black Jack road
Charles Walker took one final look then slipped out the door
He left behind a letter addressed to all his kin
'Said this land is cursed and it'd take a hearse to bring me home again
And oh, oh, oh
Oh, man you know those wheels turn slow
The weeks turned into months and his mother lost all hope
Then one day a postcard came to the house on Black Jack Road
It was postmarked California, with one solitary line
'Said I anticipate better days and I'll send for you in time
Back in California Charles Walker's luck grew thin
When he got involved in a poker game with three other desperate men
Tempers flared and shots rang out, the three men ran away
Charles Walker fell then someone yelled, "There's an ambulance on the
Way"
Two miles past the graveyard near the fork in Black Jack road
A motorcade makes its way past the field where the tall weeds grow
And in the back seat of a Cadillac, his head resting on his chest
Charles Walker dreads what lies ahead, they're going to lay his mama to rest
And he prays for her forgiveness, then in a somber tone
He utters a curse to that long black hearse that finally brought him home
Charles Walker took one final look then slipped out the door
He left behind a letter addressed to all his kin
'Said this land is cursed and it'd take a hearse to bring me home again
And oh, oh, oh
Oh, man you know those wheels turn slow
The weeks turned into months and his mother lost all hope
Then one day a postcard came to the house on Black Jack Road
It was postmarked California, with one solitary line
'Said I anticipate better days and I'll send for you in time
Back in California Charles Walker's luck grew thin
When he got involved in a poker game with three other desperate men
Tempers flared and shots rang out, the three men ran away
Charles Walker fell then someone yelled, "There's an ambulance on the
Way"
Two miles past the graveyard near the fork in Black Jack road
A motorcade makes its way past the field where the tall weeds grow
And in the back seat of a Cadillac, his head resting on his chest
Charles Walker dreads what lies ahead, they're going to lay his mama to rest
And he prays for her forgiveness, then in a somber tone
He utters a curse to that long black hearse that finally brought him home