Utah Phillips

Monday, July 21, 2008

Hello everyone, It's been a long time.
I had a thought, I've had a song rumbling around in my head for the last few weeks and instead of polishing it off myself I thought I would post a verse or two along with the chorus and and let folks contribute their own lyric to the pot and see what we come up with. So here we go.

Untitled

His Life was boom his life was bust.
His life was filled with wanderlust.
He tramped the world with a broken heart.
But now old friend it's time we part.

Chorus
There's a light on at the top of the stairs.
Rest your head weary hobo and linger no more.
The angles of the jungle will sing your sweet refrain
and we'll miss you like the dry earth misses the rain.

Please feel free to add whatever you wish. If you are more comfortable sending some thing by e-mail I will post it for you.

Duncan

3 comments:

Anonymous said...: and part we do because life's a thrill,you don't know what rambler lay over that hill,Is she steaming heavy with strain on her rods,or is she a diesel doing the yardmaster's last job,so spin the handbrake fast because downhill we go, with no retainers for our train to slow, So take err easy our dear old friend we will be coupling cars at our journeys end. Keith Bednar; July 22, 2008 at 7:12 AM
Anonymous said...: To Duncan

I just wanted to acknowledge the sacrifice you and your family went through so your Fathers work could come forward and change the world. My husband and I send our condolences to you and your family. Your father was an amazing man. I had actually just bought "Starlight On The Rails" in May, before I heard about his death. After listening to it I made many changes and goals in my life. One of them was to meet him. But then I found out that it was too late. That day I decided life was too short to wait for later. Gave up some things that did'nt matter. I've picked up my guitar and started putting into words what i've been holding back. I'm not to great with poetry, but heres something. You can rework it or not use it if you want.

we'll see you soon,
we'll bid you a many a tune,
full of passionate histories,
and real life experiances

From AM; July 24, 2008 at 12:55 AM
Anonymous said...: duncan,
thank you for this blog, I am 25 years old and I had just begun to learn about your father when I found out he recently passed away. Your father is an inspiration to me and of course so many other people too. I am starting a folk art project using antiquated technology, such as a typewriter, pinhole camera and polaroid transfers. My first piece is for utah. Id love to give it to you somehow. If your interested my email is kls_photo@yahoo.com
I really enjoyed the verse you wrote about missing him like the dry earth misses the rain. I lost my mother 2 years ago and that line is exactly how it feels to lose someone you love so much.
Well, Im a visual artist not a writer but i would love to contribute, so here it goes.

He made me laugh down in my belly,
When I heard him belt out its only a wee wee,
The shake in my belly will not fade away,
It will stay and inspire till Im old and im gray.

Thanks, Kate; August 19, 2008 at 10:51 AM

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The Two Bums

This is a poem from George Milburn's book, The Hobo's Hornbook. You can also find it in a lot of old I. W. W. pamphlets and literature. It sums up a great deal of what I feel. It talks about the bum on the rod and the burn on the plush, which is just a simple way of saying that the kind of system we live in now demands that there be a poor people, demands that there be people out of work so that there will always be people willing to work for any wage.
Sure, a lot of railroad burns are parasites, but, like the poem says, they're just fleas who get an occasional bite, and you look at what those parasites at the top are chewing off. I know that there's a lot of talk these days about the welfare Cadillac; middle class people talking about those welfare gobblers down on the bottom who are afraid to do an honest day's work, and they're all driving big Cadillacs. And you hear over and over again, "Nobody ought to get something for nothing. " I've got to agree. You've got to work to eat.
I look at a factory. I see that everybody associated with that factory puts something in and they take something out. The workers put in their sweat and their skill, and they take out wages. The salesmen put in their skill and ability, and they take out commissions. The managers and foremen and people in the offices put in theirs, and take out salaries. But there's one group of people who take out more than they put in, and that more is called profit. I can't think of any other way to define it. That's a bunch of people who are getting something they didn't work for, and it's a whole lot.
If we're really concerned about people getting just what they earn, if we're really concerned about people not getting something that they didn't put in time and sweat for, let's start with the major offenders, and get rid of them. Then we'll gradually work our way down to the petty chiselers. It just makes sense.

The bum on the rod is hunted down
As the enemy of mankind;
The other is driven around to his club
And feted, wined and dined.

And they who curse the bum on the rods
As the essence of all that is bad
Will greet the other with a winning smile
And extend him the hand so glad.

The bum on the rods is a social flea
Who gets an occasional bite;
The bum on the plush is a social leech,
Blood-sucking day and night.

The bum on the rods is a load so light
That his weight we scarcely feel,
But it takes the labor of dozens of men
To furnish the other a meal.

As long as you sanction the bum on the plush,
The other will always be there,
But rid yourself of the bum on the plush
And the other will disappear.

Then make an intelligent, organized kick,
Get rid of the weights that crush;
Don't worry about the bum on the rods,
Get rid of the bum on the plush!

Internet Archive

I have started to develop an internet archive on my web page. It will be a collection of pictures, concert flyers and posters, concert audio and video, in short everything that I have collected during the last few years of traveling with dad. My hope is that it may one day become a central place for the world wide community to have access to an ever growing archive of Utah Phillips. I would like to encourage folks to add to the archive as well. You can either send things via e-mail ( friendsofutah@yahoo.com) or to my home address. I look forward to hearing from you.
Thank You
Duncan Phillips
1392 e. 5935 s.
SLC, UT. 84121