Townes’ Blues

You're clean as
A widow woman's washboard, son
Stick it in the wind
Put the mountains to your back
The great plains on your grille
Time to take a little spin
Boulder looks like the type of town
That I could spend some time
But in Houston they got our name in lights
You're clean as
A widow woman's washboard, son
The slab is yours tonight

Townes is in the back lounge
With his hands in his pocket
Pulls out two die and says let's get at it

Salina in the headlights, snake eyes on the floor
Al drops another twenty, Pete heads for the door
Springer's feeling lucky, sits down for a spell
Oklahoma City and he's lost his last bill
Jeff is in a bind waiting on sister hicks
Seven comes a-calling as we cross on into Texas

Townes is in the back lounge
With a fist full of fives
He says, it's a little bit long
But I'm enjoying this ride

Be careful with the die
When you're surrounded by others
With boxcars in their eyes
Never count your winnings at hour 23
Of a 24-hour drive
Remember that you're not the one calling the tune
That's making those diamonds dance
Or you'll be clean as
A widow woman's washboard, son
And those are the facts

Townes is in the back lounge
Cursing at them bones
He says, ain't this fool ever heard of Raton