White House Blues

White House Blues

[with chords for those who would like to try this at home]

D
Zolgotz, cruel man
D G D
He shot poor McKinley with a handkerchief on his hand
A7 G
In Buffalo, in Buffalo
Zolgotz, you done him wrong
You shot poor McKinley when he was walkin’ along
In Buffalo, in Buffalo

The pistol fired then McKinley he did fall
The doctor says “McKinley, I can’t find the ball”
In Buffalo, in Buffalo

They sent for the doctor, the doctor come
He come in a-chargin’, he come in a-runnin’
In Buffalo, in Buffalo

He saddled his horse and he swung on his rein
And he trotted the horse till he outrun the train
To Buffalo, to Buffalo

Forty-four boxes all trimmed in braid
A sixteen-wheeled driver, boys, it couldn’t make the grade
To Buffalo, to Buffalo
Forty-four boxes trimmed in lace
Take him back to the baggage, boys, where I can’t see his face
In Buffalo, in Buffalo

Mrs. Mckinley took a trip, and she took it out west
Where she couldn’t hear the people talk about McKinley’s death
In Buffalo, in Buffalo

The engine whistled down the line
A-blowing every station – McKinley was a-dying
In Buffalo, in Buffalo

Seventeen coaches all trimmed in black
Took McKinley to the graveyard but never brought him back
To Buffalo, to Buffalo

Seventeen coaches all trimmed in black
Took Roosevelt to the White House but never brought him back
To Buffalo, to Buffalo
SPOKEN: That was Theodore Roosevelt

(2)

McKinley he hollered, McKinley he squalled
The doctor said “McKinley, I can’t find that ball”
From Buffalo to Washington

Roosevelt in the White House, he’s doin’ his best
McKinley in the graveyard, he’s takin’ his rest
He’s gone a long old time

Hush up little children, now don’t you fret
You’ll draw a pension at your papa’s death
From Buffalo to Washington

Roosevelt in the White House, drinkin’ out of a silver cup
McKinley in the graveyard, he never wakes up
He’s gone a long, long time
Ain’t but the one thing that grieves my mind
That is to die and leave my poor wife behind
I’m gone a long old time
Standing at the station, just lookin’ at the time
See by it you’re running by half-past nine
From Buffalo to Washington

Pay in the train, she’s just on time
She’ll run a thousand miles from eight o’clock till nine
From Buffalo to Washington

Yonder comes the train, she’s comin’ down the line
Throwin’ them a station message, McKinley’s a-dyin’
It’s hard times, hard times

Look a-here, you rascal, you see what you’ve done
You shot my husband with that Ivor Johnstone gun
Carry him back to Washington
The doc told the horse, he tore down the rein
Said to that horse, “You’ve got to outrun this train
From Buffalo to Washington”

Doctor came a-running, taked off his specs
Said “Mr. McKinley, better cash in your checks
You’re bound to die, bound to die”

From The Mudcat Cafe, “White House Blues
SOURCE: Bob Pfeffer
SOURCE’S SOURCE: (1) Bascom Lamar Lunsford, RECORD: “Songs and Ballads of American History and of the Assassination of
Presidents” (Library of Congress)
(2) Charlie Poole, RECORD:
COMMENTS: BLL titled it “Zolgotz”; he heard Willard Randolph sing it in about 1923. c.f. also A. Lomax “FS of North America”

YouTube version here

Relationships

When I was a young boy
Said put away those young boy ways
Now that I’m gettin’ older
So much older
I love all those young boy days
With a girl like you
With a girl like you
Lord knows there are things we can do, baby
Just me and you
Come on and make it hurt

CHORUS: Hurt so good
Come on baby, make it hurt so good
Sometimes love don’t feel like it should
You make it hurt so good

Don’t have to be so exciting
Just tryin’ to give myself
A little bit of fun, yeah
You always look so invitin’
You ain’t as green as you are young
Hey baby, its you
Come on, girl, now, its you
Sink your teeth right through my bones, baby
Let’s see what we can do
Come on and make it hurt

..

I ain’t talkin’ no big deals
I ain’t made no plans myself
I ain’t talkin’ no high heels
Maybe we could walk around
All day long
Walk around
All day long

John Mellencamp, “Hurts So Good”
Youtube

Flu and theology

In nineteen hundred and twenty-nine, men an’ women sure was dyin’,

From de disease what de doctors called de flu.

People was dyin’ ev’ywhere; death was creepin’ th’ough de air,

For de groans of de sick sure was sad.

 

Chorus:

It was God’s almighty hand; he was judgin’ this old land;

North an’ South; East an’ West could be seen,

Yes, he killed de rich an’ poor, an’ he’s goin’ to kill more

If you don’t turn away from your sins.

 

In Memphis, Tennessee, doctors said it soon would be,

In a few days influenza will (we’LL?) control.

But God showed that He was head, an’ He put de doctor to bed,

And the nurse they broke down with de same. [Chorus]

 

Influenza is a disease, makes you weak all in your knees;

‘Tis a fever ev’ybody sure does dread;

Puts a pain in ev’y bone, a few days an’ you are gone

To a place in de groun’ called de grave. [Chorus]

 

Sung by Ace Johnson, Clemens state farm, Brazoria, Texas, April 16, 1939. “”Learned it off a holiness boy in Amarillo, Texas.”

Text transcription from the Library of Congress “American Memory” site; recording collected by John and Ruby Lomax can be heard here.

 

Drink them both up

“She put the lime in the coconut, she called the doctor, woke him up,
And said, “Doctor, ain’t there nothin’ I can take,
I say, Doctor, to relieve this belly ache?
I say, Doctor, ain’t there nothin’ I can take,
I say, Doctor, to relieve this belly ache?”
“Now let me get this straight “,
Put the lime in the coconut, you drank them both up (3x)

Put the lime in the coconut, you called your doctor, woke him up,
And say, ‘Doctor, ain’t there nothing I can take,
I say, Doctor, to relieve this belly ache?
I say, Doctor, doctor, ain’t there nothin’ I can take,
I say, Doctor, dooooctor, to relieve this belly ache?’
Put the lime in the coconut, drink them both together,
Put the lime in the coconut, then you feel better,
Put the lime in the coconut, drink them both up,
Put the lime in the coconut, and call me in the morning.”

Harry Nilsson, Coconut (Nilsson Schmilsson, 1971)

Youtube