Wildroot 360

Seven Sisters

Seven sisters, seven sisters
You’ll think you’ve died and gone to Heaven,
Mister, when you’re travelin’
down south Georgia way

You got Myreen, Loreen, sweet Albertha, too
Leona, Ruth Ann and Essie Mae
Yeah, when you’re travelin’
down south Georgia way

Gospel Daddy

Singin’ ‘cause I kiss alright
you got to know it, baby,
almost every night
I say now come to me
I’m your gospel daddy

I’ll stay on your scene
you got to know it
like a skinny, white Al Green
singin’ come to me
I’m your gospel daddy

P-Farm Girl

Saw an angel in an orange vest
on the shoulder of the road
her diamond eyes they sparkled
and her raven hair it flowed
I went on up to tell her
though I knew she prob’ly knowed
“You’re the prettiest thing
that I have seen between here
and Pritchard Road”

Rosebud Matches

Gonna tell you one time, pretty baby
Just so you c’ain’t say you ain’t been told
Coming through your room just like Boo Radley
Bustin’ up your chifforobe

You keep coming back to me in pretty little flashes
I’m just Phillip’s kerosene and
You are a box of rosebud matches

Retablo

Thursday last I was down
in the bottom of a well
in a faithless town, face down

I had a 40 foot head start
on gettin’ to hell
but you were there, I could tell

You Got Somebody

You got somebody
Washing your forks and your spoons
You got somebody curlin’ them curls
You’re just like $10,000 laying out on a plate
And I’m just a poor little boy from down the state
And I’m just a poor little boy from down the state

Southern Amusement

Had a girl the name of Evelyn Newman
Her house was strict but her camellias
Was steady blooming, Georgia blooming

She had me dying, but I was trying not to look it
My breath went willingly, as she took it,
As she took it

Bachelor’s Showplace

Well the note read, “you’re leaving town
You’ll be sleeping at your momma’s
When the sun goes down”

And the right words were all she chose
They were just some simple thoughts
But they were so profound

Dixie Lanehart

Well I was thinking about giving up on folk art
And smoking smokes like Humphrey Bogart
I thought about putting my French in Action
On a more manageable attraction
But Dixie Laneheart I can’t help myself
Dixie Laneheart, it’s you and it’s no one else

Ducking Francine

Some dinner plates broke
the sun awoke
a waitress in a flowered apron
walked into the scene

She was spoken for
I held the door,
the radio played
Charles Aznavour
It was surreal
not serene