MUSIC
apgar.net   Eric&Karen   site map
 

White Trash by Fred Eaglesmith

Lucille by Fred Eaglesmith

Fred Eaglesmith Page external

Richard Shindell Page external

Music-Calendar external

 

 
External Oscar Peterson Links:

http://oscarpeterson.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

DAR Williams is a fantastic singer / songwriter / guitar player.

See her live if you get the chance! Buy her 3 CD's.

BACK

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
White Trash
by Fred Eaglesmith
 
When I met her she was a beauty queen
Who wanted something more
Now she's hanging out with me
In front of the liquor store.
And it won't start when I shut it off
So she has to get the beer
She puts it in the back seat
And she quietly says to me...
 
When, exactly, did we become white trash?
How come we've got seven dogs living in the g'rage?
How come the only eight-track in our car is Johnny Cash?
When, exactly, did we become white trash?
 
She tells all our friends that I've got my Ph.D.
But it stands for post hole digger
It ain't exactly a degree.
And there's curtains on the windows
And we hardly watch tv.
And that double wide is triple wide
Now that she's with me.
 
And she says,
When, exactly, did we become white trash?
How come we got seven dogs, who burned down the g'rage?
How come the only eight-track in our car is Johnny Cash?
When, exactly, did we become white trash?
 
Girls: (falsetto) When, exactly, did we become white trash?
Boys: (deep bass) When, exactly, did we become white trash?
(Insert your village/town/city/venue) When, exactly, did we become white
trash?
 
 
 
 
LUCILLE - Fred J. Eaglesmith
 
Lucille was a woman and I was a boy
And it was obvious that she wanted more
Than a man her age could give her and that was me.
 
I was wild as a summer squalor
Blowing through town no direction at all
I was wilder than even she could believe.
 
(Chorus)
I had a Cobra Jet 428 and a '65 Ford and it ran great
Take it on out to where the gravel turns to road
Take it on up to 110, tires screaming in and out of the bend
And Lucille hanging on just as tight as she could.
And it was cra...ayyyy...zeee. But it sure was good!
 
Lucille was 50 and I was 19
And you know it never bothered me
Not even when they called out in the bars.
 
I'd get tough and I'd bust some heads
Lucille would laugh when the cops got there
We'd sneak out the back and take off in my car.
 
(Chorus)
I had a Cobra Jet 428 and a '65 Ford and it ran great
Take it on out to where the gravel turns to road
Take it on up to 110, tires screaming in and out of the bend
And Lucille hanging on just as tight as she could.
And it was cra...ayyyy...zeee. But it sure was good!
 
Well last week I turned 45, when I woke up,
Well out in the driveway,
My wife'd had fixed that old car up for me.
 
She'd had in the garage for a week or two
When I got it back, it was good as new.
I started it up and I took off down the highway.
 
I drove on up to Randolph Heights,
There's an old folks' home out past the lights
And Lucille sitting out there in the shade.
 
I wheeled her around to the passenger door
I picked her up and put her in that car
As we took off like a dust bowl hurricane.
 
(Chorus)
And that Cobra Jet 428 and a '65 Ford and it ran great
Take it on out to where the gravel turns to road
Take it on up to 110, tires screaming in and out of the bend
And Lucille hanging on just as tight as she could.
And it was cra...ayyyy...zeee. But it sure was good!