2. Beer Town / Come to Mama's

Raggedy debauchery in No Man’s Land

Every good Western has its campy saloon/whorehouse scene, and the Plains in the 20s and 30s still had one foot solidly in the Old West. The forces of prudence couldn’t surmount the entrenched frontier mentality and its tolerance for vice. There were “good years,” with lots of money made on wheat during the Great War and on moonshine during Prohibition. It was a place where gangsters like Pretty Boy Floyd could hide in plain sight.

Well, there ain’t no roads in No Man’s Land
cause who would want to go there
and if you’ve come to roam this land
you’re on the road to nowhere
but if you care to sit a spell
and lay some money down
you’ll get to where you’re going
‘cause all roads lead to
Beer Town, Beer Town
Bohemia of the plains
there’s free beer tomorrow
every time it rains

Now you might favor Falstaff
or maybe Pabst Blue Ribbon
Or Stag or Schlitz or Anchor Steam
but you could be forgiven
they’re boiling down the broom corn now
and passing it around
the only beer in No Mans Land
is fresh and warm in
Beer Town, Beer Town
Gomorroah of the Plains
there’s free beer tomorrow
every time it rains

A stranger might be wondering
where are all the women
maybe they’ve gone for a ride
or better yet gone swimming
maybe they’ve gone to a store
to buy an evening gown
well there ain’t no women in No Man’s Land
unless you go

Next door to the beer hall
across the road from the pool hall
with a Cadillac parked out back
and a busy hitching post
there’s a happy hacienda
full of women to befriend ya
they’re better tempered than your horse
and prettier than most

Come to Mama’s
you dusty old ranger
you don’t have to know what to say
my girls never met a stranger
come to mama’s
just for a laugh
how long since you’ve seen a bosom?
how long since you’ve had a bath?

Downstairs, play some poker
with the banker and all his jokers
you might sit next to Pretty Boy Floyd
or some such dignitary
later on talk to Alice
She’s from Denver, by way of Dallas
and her favorite position is
Prohibitionary

Come to Mama’s
We’ll fit you right in
we’ll saddle you up and ride you’round
until you’re broken in
come to mama’s
just for a laugh
how long since you’ve seen a bosom?
how long since you’ve had a bath

Original Cast Featuring Steve Coffee and Elizabeth Stone

Elizabeth Stone sings the role of Mama and plays piano. Chuck Haskins plays the fiddle.

4. Rain Follows the Plow

Hubris and folly and a sucker born every minute

It was a headlong rush to kill or round up the Indians, kill off the buffalo, and even drive out the cowboys, all essentially in the interest of real estate development. For the settlers, when hope is all you have in the bank, slogans become something to hold onto. The irony is that people thought they could change the climate.

Come Hendersons and Heinrichs, MacAllen’s and O’Malley’s
We’re living off the fat of the land
Our progress won’t be hindered by no mountains or valleys
for it’s flat as your mama’s frying pan
I like this country fine, I like it mighty good
the wind pumps all the water and the cow chops all the wood
people try to tell you it’s been dry up till now
but the rain                                        -- follows the plow

The Great American Desert it soon will be defeated
I heard the agriculture man say
the soil is the one thing that cannot be depleted
and the climate grows wetter by the day
Don’t listen to the Indians, they’re a superstitious lot
don’t listen to the cowboys, there a bunch of drunken sots
We’re next year people living in the here and now
and the rain                                        -- follows the plow

Just use your common sense (the lord shall provide)
the end of innocence (the lord shall provide)
locusts plague and pestilence (the lord shall provide)
and the lord shall provide
and the rain follows the plow
and the rain                        --
The railroad pushes west, you can ride it for free
sending smoke and steam up to the sky
Nesters break the soil, plant their crops and trees
and the clouds roll in by and by
fortune favors folks that roll up their sleeves
next thing you know we’ll bringing in the sheaves
it’s our destiny to take all that nature will allow
and the rain                                        -- follows the plow

Looks like it might could rain
Sure enough feels like rain
I’d swear I can smell the rain
and the lord shall provide
and the rain follows the plow
and the rain                                        -- follows the plow

Harley String Band

Steve Coffee, Jim Johnson, Jim Clark

6. Six Inches to Hell

Cowboys on the folly of turning over the soil

While it’s true that cattle were never well adapted to the harsh conditions of the high plains—certainly not like the buffalo—ranching had gained some traction in the region. The cowboys certainly understood the value of the prairie and were generally appalled to see it plowed up.

Miles to water
Miles to wood
Six inches to hell

Right side up
The prairie grasses rise
reaching up into the sky
a magic carpet rich and fine
big as that horizon line
roots grow just as far below
to feed longhorn and buffalo
The cowboys they just ride and rope
and sing, ‘cause it’s…

one by one
the nesters come around
string their fences strip the ground
pioneers with Turkish wheat
tethered to their county seats
cast their faces to the sky
dollar signs in their eyes
as if the clouds could hear their cries
oh why? ‘cause it’s…

upside down
roots severed in the sun
the damage is already done
the living layer up and gone
leaving ground as hard as bone
the prairie soil set free to fly
blows into the devil’s eye
now there’s hell to satisfy
oh why? ‘cause it’s

Miles to water
Miles to wood
Six inches to hell, boys
Six inches to hell

Tom Bodine, with Jim Johnson and Ron Goad

8. If It Rains

Unsettling of the settlers

At the midpoint of our story, we find Ruth’s natural optimism stretched thin. Things aren’t going as planned. Farmers had graduated beyond subsistence and become capitalists, just in time for the Great Depression. Hunger was widespread nationally, but there was little money to buy farm products. Drought went on year after year, and the dust storms defied description.

Dear Sister I’m sorry it’s taken so long
To reply to your letter so much has gone wrong
the country’s so poor no one’s buying our grain
we keep planting more in spite of no rain
last year’s harvest sits by the tracks
this year’s harvest won’t fill up a sack

if it rains we can put in a garden
if it rains we’ll get back in the fields
if it rains we’ll buy shoes for the children
save something back for seed for next year
if it rains

With no rain since autumn and almost no snow
And now the dust is beginning to blow
It sticks in your throat and seeps into your house
Just like the depression you can’t keep it out
There’s dust in the butter, dust in the cream
Dust on your pillow Dust in your dreams

if it rains we’ll catch up on the taxes
if it rains we can salvage some wheat
if it rains we can pay off the grocer
have something besides biscuits to eat
if it rains

The farms are all blowing around in the wind
One county blows out, another blows in
Poor Mr. Mitchell drove into a ditch
he was trying to get home but the dust was so thick
they found him next morning he’d wandered away
The dust it giveth and it taketh Away

if it rains
if it rains
if it rains

The Glimpses

10. Black Sunday

First person abyss

April 14, 1935 is the natural climax of the Dust Bowl story. What began as a beautiful clear day, tempting hope, turned into a monstrous dust storm, considered the worst in American history. It was a crushing experience for many. Days later, the wave of dust literally blew into the halls of Congress, finally getting the attention of Washington.

It was such a pretty morning
the sky a crystal blue
and it felt just like a blessing
after all that we’d been through
everybody went outside
you could just about see forever
for once it wasn’t blowing
kids went running down the lane
people called to one another
went to church and prayed for rain
we were still a hopeful people you could
almost believe the worst was over
it was such a pretty morning
on Black Sunday

mama opened up the windows
hung the laundry on the line
daddy piled us in the car
why don’t we all go for a drive
so we went down to the creek
just to mess around and look for crawdads
Little Jesse saw it first
she said Billy come and see
there’s a big ol’ mountain range
where it didn’t used to be
I said Jesse them ain’t mountains that’s Nebraska
and it’s coming right at us
No I never will forget
Black Sunday

before it flew a turmoil
there were birds of every kind
jackrabbits and coyotes
all running for their lives
it was just like in the Bible
Mama cried the World is ending
I was first to reach the car
but the static knocked me down
I could hear the duster rumble
as Daddy pulled me from the ground
we no sooner got the windows rolled up
than the sky descended
And we sat there in the dark in the middle
of Black Sunday

my brothers took the flashlight
said they’d try and get us home
we crept along as they marked out
the edges of the road
lord how could they see?
how did they keep from choking?
it was three or four more hours
but we found our way to town
them boys you wouldn’t know them
with their faces all worn down
we still had each other
but something had been broken
No we never were the same after
Black Sunday

Original Cast featuring Steve Coffee

With Chuck Haskins on fiddle.

12. Show You the Rain

Stephen R Coffee and Jeffrey T. Smith

Geoengineering on the plains

Another timeless theme. Wherever there is drought, there are entrepreneurs ready to deploy the latest technology. 

V1
What’s wrong with everybody in this place?
Hey bartender, why the long face?
Y’all must have been visionary to settle ’round here
It takes guts to go against the grain

V2
This town has good prospect, good circulation
A fine latitude and pleasing elevation
God fearing white people that ain’t superstitious
Only one thing that you lack, don’t think I need to explain

Ch1
We need the rain --I know you do
We need the rain --And not just any ol’ rain will do
You need a long slow soaker last three or four days
It must have been providence sent me your way

V3
Folks I’m a living breathing doctor of weatherology
You shoulda seen them people up in Kankakee
When I pointed my moisture accelerator up to the sky
The clouds burst open and everyone was cheering

V4
I got a secret formula sodium chloride
Wrapped up with silicon dioxide
Step back son, this is sensitive equipment
Some call it magic, I call it engineering

Ch2
We need the rain -- I need some money
We need the rain -- time to wash out the gullies
We’re gonna turn this god forsaken place into the land of milk and honey
Show me the money -- I’ll show you the rain

Bridge
I found a half dollar in the cookie jar
Better go back and look under the bed
Hey mister I got a gold tooth
Don’t do me no good while it’s in your head

V5
Settin’ up my apparatus it will take all night
I need a unobstructed shot at the western sky
Don’t be alarmed when you hear the explosions
Just keep your eyes… on your weather vane

Segue
I’ll just be taking my wagon up over the hill…
Yall can stay here…

Ch3
Show me the rain -- Show me the money
Show me the rain -- Did I say something funny
We’re gonna turn this god forsaken place into the land of milk and honey
Show me the money -- I’ll show you the rain

Jeffrey T. Smith

Jeff Smith arranged and performed. Help from the ensemble on backing vocals.

14. Walking to California

Stephen R Coffee and Kevin Dudley

It's just up around the bend

Yes, people left. They went west, south, east, back where they came from. In reality, most stayed or didn’t get very far. Typically, by the time things got that desperate, people would have no money for gas, and quite likely no reliable transportation.

A famer with no land, is like gasoline without a car
A famer with no land, is like gasoline without a car
I’m Walking to California, it can’t be all that far

Hey there neighbor, brother can you spare a dime
I said hey neighbor neighbor, brother can you spare a dime
I’m Walking to California, I can pay you back on time

won’t no one help a drifter, lordy I ain’t got a friend
won’t no one help a drifter, you know I ain’t got a friend
I’m Walking to California, it’s just up around the bend

got that old dust pneumonia, I’m in need of repairs
got that old dust pneumonia, I’m in need of repairs
I’m Walking to California, I’ll feel so much better when I get there

if a man ain’t gonna farm, I guess he don’t need no truck
if a man ain’t gonna farm, I don’t reckon he needs no truck
I’m Walking to California, if you’re staying here, good luck

Kevin Dudley

16. Can It Be

Stephen R Coffee and Mercedes Mill

Lamentations

It falls to Ruth to express the depths of despair and remorse in this, the emotional nadir of the album. She struggles to suspend belief, to question whether people could really have wrought such a terrible circumstance, but she knows there is no way to deny or escape, and we can’t escape her desperation.

It’s a brown world, one that used to be so green
on the buildings and the fields no color to be seen
and it’s quiet, no birds or buzzing bees
Oh sister, can it be?

We surrendered to the shimmering sky
now we watch the horizon from the corner of our eye
lest it pounce… and take us by surprise
the sky, the sky, the sky

Dear sister, I can barely remember
what it was like, we were young and running free
but now I’m tired, tired to the bone
like there’s nothing left in me
can it be ? can it be?

The source of all things, the soil it was so deep
but we milked it so dry, and so shall we reap
now it stalks us, watches as we sleep
the soil, mmmmm

When the wind wears down the tombstones
who’ll remember our names?
when the dust buries the graveyard
there’ll be no one to bear the blame

the children they don’t know to complain
they’re grateful for whatever’s on their plate
but they’re scrawny and listless and small for their age
the children, ohh

the cattle, well we’re eating their feed
we’re counting the chickens and canning tumbleweeds
who gets the milk, the baby or me?
the baby or me?

Can this be what the hand of man hath wrought
did we sell our souls and this is what we bought
or are we the people god chose and then forgot
can it be? can it be? can it be?

it’s a brown world, one that used to be so green
on the faces and the fields no color to be seen
and it’s quiet, just the wind to haunt our dreams
can it be? can it be? can it be?

The Glimpses

Mercedes Mill vocal, Matthew Leonard, guitar, Katie Chambers, cello. Steve Coffee. backing vocals and percussion. Ron Goad and Tom Bodine, backing vocals

18. Blessed Are the Dead That the Rain Falls On

A gospel finale

The rains did come, about the time WWII charged up the economy, but a desert had been created in the heart of the nation, and a hole in the hearts of tens of thousands of people. Time to bury the dead and move on. The only culturally appropriate finale is a gospel song, but one suspects that those praising the Lord must have had some conflicting emotions.

Blessed are the dead that the rain falls on
the row they hoed was dry as it was long
now the clouds have shed their blood
and the furrows run with mud
just as our loved ones have passed on

Blessed are the ones of humble birth
Are not we all inherited by the earth
maybe they are not so meek
when the turn the other cheek
By their deeds you’ll know their hearts, their worth

(Chorus)
Mercy, lord have mercy
how much farther can we fall
gonna hold on to that gospel plow
if we have to crawl
lord have mercy on us all

Blessed are the ones who till the fields
before our daily bread, do they kneel
they dig deep into the sand
searching for that promised land
the earth hears prayers but rarely does it yield

Forgive us lord, we know not what we do
though you made us smart enough that we ought to
we could bite every apple on your tree
but the knowledge won’t set us free
unless we’re ready to taste the truth

Original Cast featuring Caroline Ferrante.