The Legendary C.w. Mccall

(bill fries, chip davis)

Well, interstate 80, we was cuttin' the fog
Just me an' old sloan (old sloan's my dog)
We had an eighteen-wheeler with ten on the floor and stereo layin' a strip
Now we spied a sign, says "eat gas now"
We decided to whip in and pick up some chow
At the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin' cafe

[chorus]
Oh, the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin'
Oh, the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin' (a-lookin' for mavis)
Oh, the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin' cafe

Now we've been every place between here and south sioux
And we've seen us a truck-stop waitress or two
But this gal's built like a burlap bag full of bobcats:
She's got it to-gether

Well, she filled my tank; i said "thank you, honey."
Her name was mavis, i gave her the money
Old sloan just set there, watchin' and waggin' and wishin'.
I says, "you wait in the truck, boy."

Then i went inside. she says, "what'll it be?"
I says "a cup of your best and a number three."
She come back with an order to go and a quart of hot c and a bone for sloan.
I said, "much obliged"; old sloan gave a bark
I left her a buck and he left his heart
At the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin' cafe

[chorus]
Oh, the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin'
Oh, the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin'
Oh, the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin' cafe

Well, saturday night we was truckin' along
Yeah, me and old sloan was a-gettin' it on
I said, "sloan, i've been thinkin' on a-gettin' up my courage, and tonight's the night"
Well, i popped the clutch, gave the tranny a spin
Took the beebeetown ramp and slid on in
To the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin' cafe

[chorus]
Oh, the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin'
Oh, the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin' (it never closes)
Oh, the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin' cafe

Well, i got me a stool, took a load off my shoes,
Made mavis an offer that she couldn't refuse
I says, "how'd ya like to go for a ride with me and old sloan? i just had my truck warshed."
She allowed as how it sounded like a whole lot of fun
But we was gonna have ta wait until the dishes was done
And was it all right with me if she brought along her mother as a chaperone?
I said, "why not?"

Well, we geared that tranny into super-low
And the four of us went to see a picture show
Yeah, i took 'em to the drive-in the-a-ter over by pisgah, to see true grit
Saw the late, late show; old sloan hit the sack
And then along about two o'clock i hauled 'em all back
To the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin' cafe

[chorus]
Oh, the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin'
Oh, the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin'
Oh, the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin' cafe (eight stools and a promise)
Oh, the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin'
Oh, the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin'
Oh, the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin' cafe (they got a real nice place there)

(c.w. mccall, bill fries, chip davis)

Bill fries says that this is based on a true story from the late '60s, when a band of hippies rolled into telluride and decided to stay.

One day about four or five years ago
We is settin' at the conoco station
Kickin' tires, and swattin' flies,
And discussin' the state of the union
When right out in front of the baptist church
Come a big ol' purple school bus
Had astrological signs upon it
And thirty-five hippies and dogs inside
About half of 'em went for the courthouse lawn
And them dogs commenced on the fireplug
Rest of 'em set there starin' at us
And i says, "roy, go get your flit gun"
He says, "which is the hippies? and which is the dogs?"
I says, "beats the hell outta me, roy."
What they was, was a bunch a' them crispy critters
And their leader was a space cadet

He says, "sagittarius, we has arrived.
"prepare to disembark, men.
"get the incense goin' and the sitar out
"we gonna camp in the city park, man."

I says, "boys, let me explain the situation to ya.
"a: you're gettin' me down
"and b: we got us a leash law here
"and c: you in the wrong town.
"you drop one string a' beads in that there park
"and you gonna see a whole lotta stars.
"you got fifteen seconds to get out of town, boys,
"or we gonna blow ya ta mars."

Well, they all got back in the purple bus
And proceeded to the city limits.
Then the telephone rang, was the swimmin' pool
Says a mess a' wild critters was in it!
So we all got in the marshal's plymouth
(which is always at the conoco station)
Went flashin' on down to the swimmin' pool
To give them critters a citation

By the time we arrived, it was too damn late
Them critters is all had their pants down
Them dogs was tearin' the bathhouse apart,
And they's after the fish in the fish pond!
I says, "roy, you get the one in the silver t-shirt
"and i'll get the rest with a net.
"we gonna have a jail full a' naked crispy critters
"and a drip-dry space cadet."

[you've watched the dukes of hazzard, haven't you? c'mon, admit it; nobody's looking. well, at this point in the song there's a short interlude which resembles a car chase on dukes. there's banj
Kin' and yee-hawin' and a general sense of raucous abandon. oh, yeah, and a few dog barks. it's round-up time at the swimmin' pool.]

Well, we gave 'em hell, but we lost the war
'cause them critters outnumbered us
So they moved in and set up camp
And they lived in that purple school bus
Six weeks later, there was nothin' in town
But eighty-four dogs and a head shop
Sellin' dried up weeds, and sunflower seeds,
And astrological postcards

Yeah, critters took over the city council
And the dogs all barked their brains out
And the whole damn town was crispy critters
And the mayor was a space cadet

(c.w. mccall, bill fries, chip davis)

Well, packin' on back to jackson
Eighteen-thirty-an'-six
Fifteen wagons an' forty-five orn'ry mules
Packin' on back to jackson
Workin' the beaver trail
Ten more moons an' we gonna rendevous

[chorus]
Jackson hole, wyomin'
Fifteen wagons an' forty-five orn'ry mules
Jackson hole, wyomin'
Ten more moons an' we gonna rendevous

Yeah, packin' on back to jackson
Nineteen-thirty-an'-six
Four flat tires an' a worn-out chevy coupe
Packin' on back to jackson
Workin' the teton trail
Ten more moons an' we gonna rendevous

[chorus]
Jackson hole, wyomin'
Four flat tires an' a worn-out chevy coupe
Jackson hole, wyomin'
Ten more moons an' we gonna rendevous

[oh, yeah. time for the instrumental portion of our program. banjo pickin', of course.]

[chorus]
Jackson hole, wyomin'
Fifteen wagons an' forty-five orn'ry mules
Jackson hole, wyomin'
Four flat tires an' a worn-out chevy coupe

Packin' on back to jackson
Nineteen-seventy-six
Goose down socks an' forty-dollar walkin' shoes
Packin' on back to jackson
A-workin' the backpack trail
Ten more moons an' we gonna rendevous

[chorus]
Jackson hole, wyomin'
Goose down socks an' forty-dollar walkin' shoes
Jackson hole, wyomin'
Ten more moons an' we gonna rendevous

(chip davis, bill fries)

On a cold november mornin'
Back in nineteen-thirty-seven
With an early snow a-fallin'
On the three-foot tracks at ames
Came a mighty strange contraption
Known to trainmen as a motor
But to folks in colorado
She was known by another name

Up the canyons south of sawpit
Past the red cathedral spires
'cross the yellow mountain switchbacks
And the rapids far below
On the high and lofty trestles
Near the fabled mines of ophir
In the silver san juan mountains
Came a goose a-plowin' snow

[chorus]
With a pierce-arrow engine,
Runnin' hot and on the loose
Came the rio grande southern
The gallopin' goose
With a pierce-arrow engine
Runnin' hot and on the loose
Came number five, the gallopin' goose

'twas a four-door auto-mobile
On a dozen wheels of iron
Sixteen feet of rockin' boxcar
Spot-welded to her tail
Loaded down with mercantile
Ten bags a' high-grade ore
Two mothers nursin' babies
Seven miners an' the mail

Up the side a' sunshine mountain
By internal gas combustion
Eight pierce-arrow pistons pullin'
Fifteen thousand pounds a' lead
At the snowshed on the summit
The conductor said his prayers
He declared a busted driveshaft
On the pass at lizard head

[chorus]
With a pierce-arrow engine
Runnin' hot and on the loose
Came the rio grande southern
The gallopin' goose
With a pierce-arrow engine
Runnin' hot and on the loose
Came number five, the gallopin' goose

[musical interlude here.]

Down the three-percent to rico
In the valley of dolores
They still talk about the southern
An' her flock of flyin' geese
From the roundhouse at ridgway
To the depot at durango
All the tracks are gone for scrap iron
And the ganders rest in peace

Up the canyons south of sawpit
Past the red cathedral spires
'cross the yellow mountain switchbacks
And the rapids far below
On the high and lofty trestles
Near the fabled mines of ophir
In the silver san juan mountains
There's a legend in the snow

[chorus]
With a pierce-arrow engine
Runnin' hot and on the loose
Came the rio grande southern
The gallopin' goose
With a pierce-arrow engine
Runnin' hot and on the loose
Came number five, the gallopin' goose

Well, i was born in a town called audubon
Southwest iowa, right where it oughta been
Twenty-three houses, fourteen saloons,
And a feed mill in nineteen-thirty.
Had a neon sign, said "squealer feeds"
And the bus came through when they felt the need
And they stopped at a place there in town called the old home cafe

Now my daddy was a music lovin' man
He stood six-foot-seven, had big ol' hands
He'd lost two fingers in a chainsaw but he could still play the violin
And mom played piana, just the keys in the middle
And dad played a storm on his three-fingered fiddle
'cause that's all there was to do back there folks, except ta go downtown and watch haircuts

So i was raised on dust bowl tunes, you see
Had a six-tube radio an' no tv
It was so dog-goned hot i had to wet the bed in the summer just to keep cool.
Yeah, many's a night i'd lay awake
A-waitin' for a distant station break
Just a-settin' and a-wettin' an' a-lettin' that radio fry.

Well, i listened to nashville and tulsa and dallas
And oklahoma city gave my ear a callus
And i'll never forget them announcers at three a.m.
They'd come on an' say "friends, there's many a soul who needs us
"so send them letters an' cards ta jesus
"that's j-e-s-u-s friends, in care a' del rio, texas."

But the place i remember, on the edge a' town
Was the place where you really got the hard-core sound
Yeah, a place where the truckers used ta stop on their way to dees moins
There was signs all over them windowsills
Like "if the devil don't get ya, then roosevelt will"
And "the bank don't sell no beer, and we don't cash no checks."

Now them truckers never talked about nothin' but haulin'
And the four-letter words was really appallin'
They thought them home-town gals was nothin' but toys for their amusement.
Rode chevys and macks and big ol' stacks
They's always complainin' 'bout their livers an' backs
But they was fast-livin', strung-out, truck-drivin' son of a guns

Now the gal waitin' tables was really classy
Had a rebuilt motor on a fairly new chassis
And she knew how to handle them truckers; name was mavis davis
Yeah, she'd pour 'em a coffee, then she'd bat her eyes
Then she'd listen to 'em tell 'er some big fat lies
Then she'd ask 'em how the wife and kids was, back there in joplin?

Now mavis had all of her ducks in a row
Weighed ninety-eight pounds; put on quite a show
Remind ya of a couple a' cub scouts tryin' ta set up a sears, roebuck pup tent
There's no proposition that she couldn't handle
Next ta her, nothin' could hold a candle
Not a hell of a lot upstairs, but from there on down, disneyland!

Now the truckers, on the other hand, was really crass
They remind ya of fingernails a-scratchin' on glass
A-stompin' on in, leavin' tracks all over the montgomery ward linoleum
Yeah, they'd pound them counters and kick them stools
They's always pickin' fights with the local fools
But one look at mavis, and they'd turn into a bunch a' tomcats

Well, i'll never forget them days gone by
I's just a kid, 'bout four foot high
But i never forgot that lesson an' pickin' and singin', the country way
Yeah, them walkin', talkin' truck stop blues
Came back ta life in seventy-two
As "the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin' cafe"

Oh, the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin'
Oh, the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin'
Oh, the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin' cafe
Oh, the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin'
Oh, the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin'
Oh, the old home filler-up an' keep on a-truckin' cafe

(bill fries, chip davis)

Me an' earl was haulin' chickens on a flatbed out of wiggins, and we'd spent all night on the uphill side of thirty-seven miles of hell called wolf creek pass. which is up on the great divide?


We was settin' there suckin' toothpicks, drinkin' nehi and onion soup mix, and i said, "earl, let's mail a card to mother then send them chickens on down the other side. yeah, let's give 'e
Ide."

[chorus]
Wolf creek pass, way up on the great divide
Truckin' on down the other side

Well, earl put down his bottle, mashed his foot down on the throttle, and then a couple'a boobs with a thousand cubes in a nineteen-forty-eight peterbilt screamed to life. we woke up the chicken
R>

Well, we roared up offa that shoulder sprayin' pine cones, rocks, and boulders, and put four hundred head of them rhode island reds and a couple a' burnt-out roosters on the line. look out below
Use here we go!

Well, we commenced to truckin' and them hens commenced to cluckin' and then earl took out a match and scratched his pants and lit up the unused half of a dollar cigar and took a puff. says "
Ain't this purdy up here."

I says, "earl, this hill can spill us. you better slow down or you gonna kill us. just make one mistake and it's the pearly gates for them eight-five crates a' usda-approved cluckers. you w
Hit second?"

[chorus]
Wolf creek pass, way up on the great divide
Truckin' on down the other side

Well, earl grabbed on the shifter and he stabbed her into fifth gear and then the chromium-plated, fully-illuminated genuine accessory shift knob come right off in his hand. i says, "you wa
Crew that thing back on, earl?"

He was tryin' to thread it on there when the fire fell off a' his cigar and dropped on down, sorta rolled around, and then lit in the cuff of earl's pants and burned a hole in his sock. yeah, so
Et him right on fire.

I looked on outta the window and i started countin' phone poles, goin' by at the rate of four to the seventh power. well i put two and two together, and added twelve and carried five; come up wi
Enty-two thousand telephone poles an hour.

I looked at earl and his eyes was wide, his lip was curled, and his leg was fried. and his hand was froze to the wheel like a tongue to a sled in the middle of a blizzard. i says, "earl, i'
The type to complain; but the time has come for me to explain that if you don't apply some brake real soon, they're gonna have to pick us up with a stick and a spoon."

Well, earl rared back, and cocked his leg, stepped as down as hard as he could on the brake, and the pedal went clear to the floor and stayed there, right there on the floor. he said it was sort
E steppin' on a plum.

Well, from there on down it just wasn't real purdy: it was hairpin county and switchback city. one of 'em looked like a can full'a worms; another one looked like malaria germs. right in the midd
The whole damn show was a real nice tunnel, now wouldn't you know?

Sign says clearance to the twelve-foot line, but the chickens was stacked to thirteen-nine. well we shot that tunnel at a hundred-and-ten, like gas through a funnel and eggs through a hen, and w
K that top row of chickens off slicker than scum off a lousiana swamp. went down and around and around and down 'til we run outta ground at the edge of town. bashed into the side of the feed sto
In downtown pagosa springs.

[chorus]
Wolf creek pass, way up on the great divide
Truckin' on down the other side
Wolf creek pass, way up on the great divide
Truckin' on down the other side