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A beautiful spring Sunday afternoon, albeit still a bit chilly for my world. March is a wonky month in Chicago, but this week it looks like it has chosen to be spring and a maybe bit warmer.

Today’s prompt is Bluegrass/Country and I’ll probably throw a couple of song’s in today. My first one is from The Charlie Daniels band, “The Devil Went Down to Georgia.” We saw them perform this twice, once in Chicago and the other time was at summer fair…

The Devil Went Down to Georgia

The devil went down to Georgia, he was lookin’ for a soul to steal
He was in a bind ’cause he was way behind
And he was willin’ to make a deal

When he came across this young man sawin’ on a fiddle and playin’ it hot
And the devil jumped up on a hickory stump
And said, “boy, let me tell you what”

“I guess you didn’t know it but I’m a fiddle player too
And if you’d care to take a dare, I’ll make a bet with you
Now you play a pretty good fiddle, boy
But give the devil his due
I’ll bet a fiddle of gold against your soul
‘Cause I think I’m better than you”

The boy said, “my name’s Johnny and it might be a sin
But I’ll take your bet, you’re gonna regret
‘Cause I’m the best there’s ever been”

Johnny, rosin up your bow and play your fiddle hard
‘Cause Hell’s broke loose in Georgia, and the devil deals the cards
And if you win, you get this shiny fiddle made of gold
But if you lose, the devil gets your soul

The devil opened up his case and he said, “I’ll start this show”
And fire flew from his fingertips as he rosined up his bow
And he pulled the bow across the strings
And it made a evil hiss
Then a band of demons joined in
And it sounded something like this

When the devil finished, Johnny said, “well, you’re pretty good, ol’ son
But sit down in that chair right there
And let me show you how it’s done”

“Fire on the Mountain” run boys, run
The devil’s in the House of the Rising Sun
Chicken in a bread pan pickin’ out dough
Granny, does your dog bite? No, child, no

The devil bowed his head because he knew that he’d been beat
And he laid that golden fiddle on the ground at Johnny’s feet
Johnny said, “Devil, just come on back if you ever wanna try again
I done told you once you son of a bitch, I’m the best that’s ever been”

He played “Fire on the Mountain” run boys, run
The devil’s in the House of the Rising Sun
The chicken in a bread pan pickin’ out dough
Granny, will your dog bite? No child, no

Another Country/Bluegrass song I found comes from a group I just now discovered thanks to the husband. I’m really shocked I never knew about these guys as a group til now but that doesn’t surprise me as the husband introduces me to a lot of different genre’s on the Music Scene…He’s older than me 😉 and has time for these kind of interests.

The second song I’m choosing for today is again from the Highwaymen and it is, “The City of New Orleans.” This song was written by Steve Goodman, another Chicago Native… This song also has a more personal meaning for me as my 1st job was working for the Illinois Central (Gulf) Railroad in Chicago. My dad got me the job as he was the comptroller for ICG. When he started out he was just a union worker down in Southern Illinois. There’s so much history that comes from the Railroad. This song for example mentions the Illinois Central which was its name until they merged with something w/Gulf in the name. Hence was born the Illinois Central Gulf.

City of New Orleans

Riding on the City of New Orleans
Illinois Central, Monday morning rail
Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders
Three conductors and twenty-five sacks of mail
All along the southbound odyssey
The train pulls out at Kankakee
Rolls along past houses, farms and fields
Passin’ trains that have no name
Freight yards full of old black men
And the graveyards of the rusted automobiles

Good morning America, how are you?
Say, don’t you know me? I’m your native son
I’m the train they call the City of New Orleans
I’ll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done

Dealin’ card games with the old men in the club car
Penny a point ain’t no one keepin’ score
Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle
Feel the wheels rumblin’ ‘neath the floor
And the sons of pullman porters
And the sons of engineers
Ride their father’s magic carpets made of steel
Mothers with their babes asleep
Are rockin’ to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel

Good morning America, how are you?
Say, don’t you know me? I’m your native son
I’m the train they call the City of New Orleans
I’ll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done

Nighttime on the City of New Orleans
Changing cars in Memphis, Tennessee
Half way home, we’ll be there by morning
Through the Mississippi darkness
Rolling down to the sea
But all the towns and people seem
To fade into a bad dream
And the steel rail still ain’t heard the news
The conductor sings his songs again
The passengers will please refrain
This train got the disappearing railroad blues

Good night, America, how are you?
Say, don’t you know me? I’m your native son
I’m the train they call the City of New Orleans
I’ll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done

I worked the in the Electrical Engineering/Commuter Division, Randolph Street Station in Chicago, before I left the workforce for Homemaking and Motherhood. It was a great union paying job and I have many good memories from that past life…

I hope you will enjoy all of the music from today…Blessings to all on a great new week and Happy Spring !!!!