Get all 7 Red Meat Records releases available on Bandcamp and save 20%.
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Midnight In The Bone Orchard, A Dying Man Can Sure Sing The Blues, Episode One, Postcards From Deadeye, Alcohol Tobacco Raygun?, Death Row Hoedown, and Terrible Stories.
1. |
Opening Theme
00:21
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2. |
Death Row Hoedown
02:10
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Swing your partner by the head
Don't let him go 'til he's good 'n' dead.
Strap your partner to the chair
Flick a switch 'n' he'll fry right there.
Tie your partner to the pole
Fill him full of bullet holes.
Pump that poison in his veins
He's never getting up again.
Kill your partner nice and slow
We'll have a hoedown on death row.
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3. |
My Rented Room
03:38
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Hang your coat up on the floor
Stub your cigarette out on the wall.
We got stoned and played Nintendo all night long
And I can't get to sleep cuz the girl next door's whoring
So I skim-read her diary (it was totally boring)
And the landlady's fat and black
And she won't give us our deposit back
And there's lunatics prowling the KwikSave aisles.
And I wrote this tune
In my rented room.
I ate nothing but toast 'n' cheese for three weeks
Saved my pennies so I could afford a decent whisky.
We got high and watched crap TV 'til the TV died
And you get funny looks from the folks about town
When you go out to buy beer in your dressing gown
And it's only half past ten
And Opera Bitch has called the cops again
But they don't give a shit, they just want to get home.
And I wrote this tune
In my rented room.
And I went to the doctor with pains in my feet
He said it's the first case of gout that he'd ever seen
And the landlady's fat and black
And she won't give us our deposit back
And it's only half past ten
And Opera Bitch has called the cops again
And the landlady's trying to screw us
I'd tell her to shove off but her sons are like gorillas
And when we got back they'd changed all the locks on the doors
And I wrote this tune
In my rented room.
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4. |
Truckstop Funeral
08:01
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Roll buddy roll buddy roll
It'll take more than sixteen gears
To save your mortal soul.
Dig that smokin' diesel 'n' fairy lights
Pop a few more little white pills 'n' we'll really fly.
And I ain't got money, but I got plenty of time
To dig these little white lines.
Burn rubber burn rubber burn
There ain't a highway made
That can take these handbrake turns.
Don't slow down they'll never catch ya
And when we're outta beer bring on the grappa.
And I ain't got money, but I got some crazy tatoos
And a feel for the blues.
And if I die, wrap my body up
And tie it tightly to the wheels
Of a big black semi-truck.
Then in the night, I will ride
To the place that truckers go when they die
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5. |
So Long, Mary Jones
03:31
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Well the moon floated water-lily white in the sky
Like the white of an eye or the white of an egg
And it's soft light trickled like milk o'er your legs
It's soft light trickled like milk o'er your legs
And the clouds clung like paint to a canvas of stars
That had been primed with a jar of Indian ink
So sticky and dark that I couldn't even think
So oily and black that I couldn't even think
So long, Mary Jones
They won't find your body
They won't find your bones
So long, Mary Jones
It's time I was going home.
And the river slithered like a slippery eel
His black scales shining as it ebbed and it flowed
And the snails dragged their slimy wet trails through my toes
The snails dragged their slimy wet tails through my toes
So long, Mary Jones
They won't find your body
They won't find your bones
So long, Mary Jones
It's time I was going home.
And I never really loved you that much
I just kinda lost it when our bodies touched
With my hands on your ass we rolled in the grass
With my hands on your ass we rolled in the grass
So long, Mary Jones
They won't find your body
They won't find your bones
So long, Mary Jones
It's time I was going home.
So long, Mary Jones
You ain't coming with me
I'm a-going alone
So long, Mary Jones
It's time I was going home.
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6. |
Come Inside, Stranger
04:14
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Step in to my humble abode
Get your head out from under that load
Come out from the storm
And into the warm
You've been too many months on the road
And come inside, stranger and sit down with me
Share a cold glass of beer or a hot cup of tea
Sing 'Que Sera Sera'
That's 'what will be will be'
And we'll have us some good company
Step over the rats in the hall
They won't really bother you at all
So they soil all the rugs
But they feed on the bugs
That are crawling all over the walls
And the boiler's not working quite right
So I guess we'll just sit here and shiver
And if in the night
Our breath turns to ice
I'll go set a sofa alight
So come inside, stranger and sit down with me
Share a cold glass of beer or a hot cup of tea
Sing 'Que Sera Sera'
That's 'what will be will be'
It's a while since I had company
Since the landlord put the rent up by half
He's been lying dead in the bath
And each time I see him
His dumb death's head grin
Looks so stupid I can't help but laugh
And the pretty young girl from next door
Is lying dead on the living room floor
I stove her head in
With a bottle of gin
Now she don't look so pretty no more
So come inside, stranger and sit down with me
Share a warm glass of beer or a cold cup of tea
Sing 'Que Sera Sera'
That's 'what will be will be'
I could do with some fresh company
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7. |
Concrete Swamp
02:48
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Stray dogs
Pawn shops
Bent cops
Concrete swamp
Stew bum
Street scum
Bad slum
Concrete swamp
Carjack
Pitch black
Jam packed
Concrete swamp
Gang war
Hardcore
Crack whore
Concrete swamp
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8. |
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9. |
Closing Theme
01:48
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Dance on his grave and jump on his bones
He's a miserable sucker that Muleskinner Jones
His clothes are held together with string
And he can't really play and he can't really sing
The banjer's strummming 'n' the geetar's picking
He'll give your ass a good country kicking
So kind sir would you care to give a donation
And help poor Mr. Jones get his medication
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Red Meat Records Bradford On Avon, UK
The musical output of Mr. James R. Closs. Skunkworks recording artist since 1999. Muleskinner Jones | The Faceless Corporation
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