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Scott Simpson | Nebraska Catfish

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Folk: Folk-Jazz Jazz: Jazz-Pop Moods: Type: Acoustic
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Nebraska Catfish

by Scott Simpson

A jazz folk visit to small town Nebraska, this album is dedicated to my good friend, Kirk Miller, 1964 - 1992.
Genre: Folk: Folk-Jazz
Release Date: 

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  Song Share Time Download
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1. Nebraska Catfish
5:14 $0.99
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2. Midwest Town
3:52 $0.99
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3. Cherry Hill
4:10 $0.99
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4. Into New
4:15 $0.99
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5. So Cold
5:46 $0.99
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6. Playdough Boy
5:15 $0.99
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7. Look Doris
5:29 $0.99
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8. Blue & White
2:28 $0.99
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9. Winter Fields
4:33 $0.99
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10. Gone (for Kirk)
5:03 $0.99
Downloads are available as MP3-320 files.

ABOUT THIS ALBUM


Album Notes
Nebraska Catfish

Walking along the tracks
There’s no trains a-comin’ through Nebraska
Prairie sun on the rails like a knife cuttin’ out a slice
Checkin’ catfish lines tossed in the Platte
Dark and muddy
What’s on the other end
I don’t know til I give it a tug…
I don’t know til I give it a tug…
I don’t know til I give it a tug…

So many hidden things, they leave their trails
They leave their marks
You can see them in the faces walkin’ down the street
Mid February
I don’t know their names, I don’t know their stories
But I know the tug that pulls and fights
Oh, here they are in the current moving upstream
Hook set, and it’s not coming out…
Hook set, and it’s not coming out…
Hook set, and it’s not coming out…
Not coming out…

Walking along the tracks
There’s no trains a-comin’ through Nebraska
The boy sits on the grass in the shelter-belt
Oh, the corn fields are checkered out
Their lines are broken, their lines are broken
Every stalk’s an amputee
Aw shucks…

The wind makes the cottonwoods creak
The limbs are fallin’, limbs are fallin’
There’s a storm a-comin, can you feel the tug?
Can you feel the tug?
What’s still submerged
It makes the twigs dance, makes the snow-fence howl
It’s a song it’s a dance,
It’s a catfish still alive on the line…


I don’t know til I give it a tug…
Hook set, and it’s not coming out…
I don’t know til I give it a tug…
Hook set, and it’s not coming out…

Midwest Town

In a Midwest town
when the winter comes you never see the ground;
see the children spill onto the street
for the wind to scatter like autumn leaves.
Take yourself to a small cafe,
and have a cup of coffee with your toast today.
Hear the farmers talkin' politics
with their leather hands and brown toothpicks.

Yeah...
she's comin' in big slow flakes
to touch your face---
best watch out,
she'll be driftin' above your neck
in no time

In a Midwest town
by the interstate--- hear the semi-sound.
Hear it droning in the air at night
just beneath the geese in flight.
And they spread their gracious wings
in the night-blind sky they begin to sing.
There you are--- safe and sound
in a Midwest town you can never be found.

They'll never find you there.
People leave their doors unlocked---
go for walks at three-in-the-morning
in a Midwest town.

In a Midwest town
people go to church without their heads held down.
In a Midwest town
you can raise your kids with their feet on the ground.
You can go down to the Tastee Freeze
or go swingin' in the park--- whatever you please.
You can listen to the creek in a springtime thaw,
steal a porchswing kiss--- anything at all.
Find your love in a Midwest town...
You can find your love in a Midwest town...

Found my love in Nebraska…
Found my love in Nebraska…
Found my love in Nebraska…
Found my love in Nebraska…


Cherry Hill

Cherry Hill, oh Cherry Hill
Got my fill on Cherry Hill
Cherry Hill, oh Cherry Hill
Got my fill on Cherry Hill

There was a place we kids would go
To ride our bikes and sled our snow
It was a magic place—everybody said so,
Yeah, I been there, and I oughta know.

Lots of trails and lots of trees
And a hill where the grass was up to your knees
Didn’t take much more than a “Momma please?”
And we were out the door like a summertime breeze.

Well it was hide-n-seek and dirt bike chase
We were just kids thinkin’ it was our place
‘fore the strangers came n left more than a trace
We found ‘em under the bridge—you shoulda seen Kirk’s face.

(Chorus)

See they were pictures from some magazine
The kind none of us had ever seen
Some were sick, some were just mean
Oh but they sucked us in like a candy machine

Now eight years old’s too young to die
But my eight years fell away with a sigh
Like middle-aged men we began to cry
There on cherry hill beneath a summer sky…

Cherry hill never was the same
Mighta been fear, mighta been shame
But my bike gathered dust and a rusty chain
Once us boys had a taste of a grown man’s pain

Well I might go there if I’m back in town
Just to see the bridge and hear the cricket sound
But there’s no more surprises left to be found
Once a boys grown up and been around
Tell me, are there no more surprises left to be found
Before the cherries fall and the sun goes down?

Cherry Hill, oh Cherry Hill
Got my fill on Cherry Hill
Cherry Hill, oh Cherry Hill
Got my fill on Cherry Hill
Oh I had my fill of Cherry Hill.



Into New
(Based on closing lines of Wendell Berry's "A Purification")

Like the night sky into blue
Or a single cell becoming two
Like me leaning into you
Something old is escaping into new

I used to worry my mistakes
Guilt makes the bones and the body ache
Now I am leaning into you
Something old is escaping into new

Like the past into now
A spring renewed somehow
Like the wind or the dawn—
Always returning, always gone
Ancient wisdom, come to light
A fading love that finds its fight
See how I’m leaning into you?
Something old is escaping into new.

I always wanted desperately to win
Disguising loss with a grin
But now that I am loved by you
Something old is escaping into new.
Now that I am loved by you
Something old is escaping into new.


So Cold

So cold, so cold, so cold

I went out walking in my hometown last night,
I hadn't done that in quite a long, long time.
There was a full moon--- she went behind the clouds
And lit the storm-front from behind.
I have a friend; he wrote a letter.
He had no one to send it to.
I wrote a song--- but I could sing it so much better
If I could sing my song for you.

I was thinking about the time we said goodbye
The way most good friends do:
"See you later, when we both have the time..."
Then the time ran out on you.

So cold, so cold, so cold
So cold, so cold, so cold

At 3 am, you never see a soul
When the winter is on the ground.
The houses are hollow and the brick streets are so cold;
Some nights are lost never to be found.

So cold, so cold, so cold
So cold, so cold, so cold

I was thinking about the time we said goodbye
The way most good friends do:
"See you later, when we both have the time..."
Then the time ran out on you,
I was thinking about the time we said goodbye
The way most good friends do:
"See you later, when we both have the time..."
Then the time ran out on you,
And then the time ran out on you.

So cold, so cold, so cold
So cold, so cold, so cold


Playdough Boy

He had a cassette recorder, he had songs in his head
He placed them into the microphone.

Playdough boy, Playdough boy, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 Playdough boy

Middle school is a playdough factory
Put them in and push the plunger down
Playdough boy…
He lost the top of his head
He lost the tips of his fingers…

Playdough boy, Playdough boy, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 Playdough boy

Nobody ever asked him—he would have told them
He liked drawing, you know he liked the summer grass
Playdough boy…
He loved the smell of the dirt
He love to watch the ants carrying the dead back home

Playdough boy, Playdough boy, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 Playdough boy

He had a cassette recorder, he had songs in his head
He placed them into the microphone.
Playdough boy…
Sitting in the Platte
He felt the coolness steal the sand down stream
Playdough boy…
Nobody ever asked him, he would have told them
He would have told them all.

Playdough boy, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 Playdough boy, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 Playdough boy

The factory—they had holes like stars
They had holes like snakes and flowers
Holes like spaghetti
The factory—they had holes like stars
And everybody likes stars
Everybody likes stars…
Push the plunger down, push the plunger down…
Push the plunger down…

10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14
Playdough boy, Playdough boy, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 Playdough boy

He could have been anything, He could have been anything
Playdough boy, there’s all kinds of stars… There’s all kinds of stars…

Playdough boy, Playdough boy
10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14
Playdough boy, Playdough boy



Look, Doris

Look, Doris there's a train a-coming
And it's headed straight for your head
Listen, Doris to the whistle blowing
And the lights are flashing red
They're flashing red

Not every crossing has a warning sign
Not every sign has a right to be red
It don't take no fortune teller
Just to know you've got to lie where you've made your bed
You've got to lie where you've made your bed, Doris
You've got to lie where you've made your bed

Listen Doris there's a car a-coming
Gonna hit you from behind
Listen, Doris to his wheels a-grinding
As he swerves past the yellow line
Past the yellow line

Not every road leads to Heaven Doris
And some drivers are blind
Not every road has a shoulder, Doris
And the fields that you pass may be filled with mines
All those fields are filled with mines, Doris
Oh the fields are filled with mines

Everybody’s got a destination
Everybody's got somewhere to go
The going's easy
But the coming home is slow…
It’s so slow, Doris
Oh comin’ home is slow…

Look, Doris there's a train a-coming
And it's headed straight for your head
Listen, Doris to the whistle blowing
And the lights are flashing red
They're flashing red
The lights are flashing red
The lights are flashing red, Doris
Flashing red.



Blue and White
(York College Song
words and music by Ruby Carol Rickard
Arr. Scott Simpson)

On the hill of the rising sun
Stands a college we love so dear
Rooted deep is our loyalty
Grounded firm is our faith, sincere.

In our hearts will ever, ever be
Blue and white a blessed memory
Through the years our voices raise in praise to thee
All hail, York, hail.

Looking down on a busy town
Stands our college with aims so high
For the best in our work and sport
We are glad we can sound the cry.

In our hearts will ever, ever be
Blue and white a blessed memory
Through the years our voices raise in praise to thee
All hail, York, hail.

Our voices raise in praise to thee, oh
All hail, York, hail.



Winter Fields

Out here in these winter fields
silence is the only thing that's growing,
even now when it's not snowing
and there's nothing but the wind.

And I want to know--- do you remember
weren't those seeds that we were sowing?
Didn't our bodies ache with knowing
that our love would never end?

Hey-hey-yey-ee-yey-ee-ay
Hey-hey-yey-ee-yey-ee-ay

Upstairs where the children sleep
and dream of their tomorrows,
do you think they know our sorrows---
how hard it is, sometimes, to break the ground?

Down stairs, we are in our chairs
with nothing to disturb us,
but the thing that makes me nervous
is how hard it is, sometimes, to make a sound.

Hey-hey-yey-ee-yey-ee-ay
Hey-hey-yey-ee-yey-ee-ay

Out here in these winter fields…
Out here in these winter fields…
Out here in these winter fields…
Out here in these winter fields…
There's nothing but the wind.

Hey-hey-yey-ee-yey-ee-ay
Hey-hey-yey-ee-yey-ee-ay
Hey-hey-yey-ee-yey-ee-ay
Hey-hey-yey-ee-yey-ee-ay

There's nothing but the wind.



Gone (for Kirk)
(Based on two lines from James Taylor’s Carolina on My Mind)

I’m gone, I’m gone
Say nice things about me.
I’m gone, I’m gone
You’ll have to carry on without me.

I’m gone, I’m gone
Say nice things about me.
I’m gone, I’m gone
You’ll have to carry on without me.

I’m gone, I’m gone
Say nice things about me.
I’m gone, I’m gone
You’ll have to carry on without me.

I’m gone, I’m gone
Say nice things about me.
I’m gone, I’m gone
You’ll have to carry on without me.

I’m gone, I’m gone
Say nice things about me.
I’m gone, I’m gone
You’ll have to carry on without me.

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