A REFUGE FOR POETS WHO WRITE IN THE LYRIC TRADITION,
WITH RHYME AND METER, WITH OR WITHOUT MUSIC
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MURDER BALLAD FOR ROY DEAN
High up in the mountains
In the great and mighty Ozarks,
Where hoosterdoos inhabit
The old and hollow tree barks,
There lived a man named Martin,
A decent fellow man
Who worked and plowed the fields
Until the dusk was on the land.
And Martin had a wife,
Elizabeth by name,
Twenty years his younger
But they married just the same,
Oh, they married just the same.
Down across the valley
In the great and mighty Ozarks,
Where bears roam free
Through the bramble and the beau d’arc,
There lived a man named Jake
Who was barely twenty-two;
He caught a sight of Martin’s wife
While hunting for some food.
Jake thought Elizabeth
Was beautiful to see.
He would hunt up in the Ozarks
And watch her from the trees,
Oh, watch her from the trees.
Jake! Jake! You’d better take
Your eyes off Martin’s wife!
If Martin ever catches you
He’ll surely take your life!
It was on a Sunday morning
While Martin was at plow;
Jake unto Elizabeth
Proclaimed his loving vow.
Elizabeth was swept away
By Jake and all his charms;
Her heart was filled with love,
And she fell into his arms.
From then on they were lovers
While Martin was at plow.
They planned to run away some day
Not knowing when or how,
Oh, not knowing when or how.
Jake! Jake! You’d better take
Your hands off Martin’s wife!
If Martin ever catches you
He’ll surely take your life!
One summer day the sun was hot
And Martin took a break.
He came home to lie in bed
And found his wife with Jake.
Martin grabbed his shotgun
And pointed it at Jake.
Elizabeth jumped in between;
It was her last mistake.
Martin pulled the trigger,
Then saw what he had done:
They both lay dead upon his bed
From one blast of his gun,
Oh, from one blast of his gun.
Some say they think they heard
Another shotgun blast.
No one seems to know for sure,
So many years have passed.
Some say Martin died that day;
Some say even now,
When the wind is in the trees,
They hear him whistling to his plow,
Oh, whistling to his plow.
Antlers, Oklahoma, 1997
(lyrics co-authored by John Mark Ramsey II)
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