Lyrics: Sneakin' in the Back Door

 

1. Sneakin in the Back Door
2. The Beaumont Rag / Sister Kate
3. Waiting for Nancy
4. Rodeo Clown
5. Lowlands of Holland / Southwind
6. Tina Came to Dance
7. Grave Digger
8. Something About Twilight
9. Long Way to Go
10. Frosty Morning
11. Painted Desert

 

Sneakin' in the Back Door
(R. Browning)

Pauline, honey, how've you been? Your kitchen's lookin' nice.
I like this pretty tablecloth. I almost bought it twice.
Same old thing with me. You know, some things never change.
That man of mine's been steppin' out, and smooth, you know he ain't.
Five o'clock this mornin', I heard Miss Tilley bark;
looked outside my window, and I watched him creepin' through the dark.

    Sneakin' in the back door,
    shoes in his hand.
    Sneakin' in the back door.
    Thinks he's a hootchie-cootchie man.

Now, seven years have come and gone since we married on that hill.
He's been chasin' women all his life, probably always will.
He must think I'm stupid to take these lies of his.
I know who he's seein'. I know where she lives.
Her name is Nellie Walker, she just moved into town.
She don't know he's married. She don't know he runs around

    Sneakin' in the back door,
    shoes in his hand.
    Sneakin' in the back door.
    Thinks he's a hootchie-cootchie man.

I just had a good idea. That's nothin' new for me.
Let's invite Miss Walker in for sandwiches and tea.
I'll brag about my husband. I'll take his picture out.
You act like he's your lover, then run screamin' out the house.
Honey, she will drop him so fast his head'll spin.
I'll be sleepin' like a baby. At least until he starts again.

    Sneakin' in the back door,
    shoes in his hand.
    Sneakin' in the back door.
    Thinks he's a hootchie-cootchie man.

© 2003 by Randy Browning

 

I Wish I Could Shimmy Like my Sister Kate
(Piron / Armstrong, 2nd verse lyrics by R. Browning)

I went to a dance with my sister Kate.
Everybody there said she danced so great.
Well, I realized a thing or two,
'cause Kate was into something new.
I looked at Kate, she was in a trance,
and I realized my head was in the sand;
everybody's goin' wild for Katie's dancin' style.

Now, the dance is old but her steps are new.
She throws back her head and kicks off her shoes.
Huffin', puffin', havin' a ball;
she'll peel the paint right off the wall.
She can cut the rug and then polish the wood,
ooh, shimmy, shimmy, shimmy, she's mighty good.
Parts are loose, parts are tight,
and Kate'll dance all night.

Oh, I wish I could I shimmy like my sister Kate;
I'd shake it just like jelly on a plate.
Mama wanted to know last night,
she said "why does all the fellas treat Kate so nice?"
Now everybody in the neighborhood
knows Kate can shimmy, it's understood;
I may be late, but I'll be up-to-date
when I can shimmy like my sister Kate.

 

Rodeo Clown
(R. Browning)

I came to Cheyenne, wrapped a rope around my hand
and rode my first bull at sixteen.
A three second ride on a Brahma named Suicide;
he knocked the blue right off my jeans.

    Laid me out flat.
    All I remember is a big orange hat
    on a funny old guy
    who turned the bull back while I ran for my life.

        Eight seconds is an awful long time.
        And that's if you're lucky and you finish the ride.
        The toughest old cowboys have to come down,
        but there ain't no buzzer for a rodeo clown.

I rode a few years; spent some time wrestlin' steers.
I saw my fair share of third place
'til they gave me a chance in an old pair of baggy pants
and drew a big smile on my face.

    I made a good clown.
    I saved all my cowboys and I worked up the crowds.
    It made people laugh
    when I'd tap a mean bull with my big orange hat.

        Eight seconds is an awful long time.
        And that's if you're lucky and you finish the ride.
        The toughest old cowboys have to come down,
        but there ain't no buzzer for a rodeo clown.

Well, I'm fifty today, and I don't know any other way;
it's been the best years of my life.
I love what I do, and a hard hit is nothin' new
but healin' takes longer each time.

    It's hard to admit;
    I'm slow to the gate and it's about time to quit.
    My boot straps are gone,
    but I can't stand to stop while I'm still hangin' on.

        Eight seconds is an awful long time.
        And that's if you're lucky and you finish the ride.
        The toughest old cowboys have to come down,
        but there ain't no buzzer for a rodeo clown.

© 2003 by Randy Browning

 

Tina Came to Dance
(R. Browning)

Tina Santorina comes a-struttin' through the door
in a black lace mini, and not much more.
She's lookin' fine, pretty as a picture
in her high-heeled, fur-trimmed, leopard-skin slippers.

There beside the bar, sittin' on some leather,
Louie smiles and winks at her and talks about the weather.
The place is dark, but anyone can tell
Louie's little conversation isn't goin' well.

   Tina Santorina came to dance.
    She don't have no time for cheap romance.
    Only thing she's lookin' for is a hot salsa band.
   A man don't stand a chance;
    Tina came to dance.

Everyone's relaxin' as the band begins to play.
Tina shakes her pretty booty every which-a-way.
She draws a crowd, maneuvers like a surgeon.
Tina makes a livin' by creatin' a diversion.

Louie nods his head, full of satisfaction.
Here's an opportunity to get a little action.
He picks a pocket as he stumbles through the crowd.
He tries to talk to Tina, but she turns him back around.

   Tina Santorina came to dance.
   She don't have no time for cheap romance.
   Only thing she's lookin' for is a hot salsa band.
   A man don't stand a chance;
   Tina came to dance.

       Louie's here on buisness.
       Louie's here to steal.
      He came to lift some wallets.
       He came to make some deals.

Well, an undercover cop is watchin' Louie from the side.
Ol' pick-pocket Louie has lifted for the last time.
The cuffs are on, the cop's in a hurry:
"I know all about it, Louie, tell it to the jury."

Louie hangs his head, he's out of circulation.
Tina sends a smile as he's headin' for the station.
She dips her shoulder, she slides her feet.
She may have lost her partner, but she never missed a beat.

   Tina Santorina came to dance.
    She don't have no time for cheap romance.
   Only thing she's lookin' for is a hot salsa band.
   A man don't stand a chance;
    Tina came to dance.

© 2003 by Randy Browning

 

Long Way to Go
(R. Browning)

In Presque Isle Maine it was thirty-five below,
the pink of morning in a deep, blue sky.
A big man was walking south.
Frozen breath in a beard of ice.
Bus drivers in a coffee shop added up the miles
as he was walkin' the whole state of Maine.
It's a long way to go.

Twenty miles a day by the side of the road,
horns or laughter as the cars drove by.
Snowy trees and paper towns.
Some people waved or walked alongside a little while.
Bartender's on the nightly news, he was laughin' at the guy
out there walkin' the whole state of Maine.
It's a long way to go.

In the breakdown lane, knee deep in the snow,
they took his picture for the Bay Town Times.
Angry men were talkin' loud;
shakin' heads and heavin' sighs.
Truck driver slammed the pedal down, he was aiming for the guy
out there walkin' the whole state of Maine.
It's a long way to go.

  The wind was bitter on voting day.
   It rattled through the signs: "no rights for gays."
   It howled and moaned.
   It cried alone.

In Portsmouth, New Hampshire, the news was old.
A handful waited at the Maine state line.
He thanked each one for coming out,
and went back to living his life.
Some folks remember, in the wintertime,
when he was walkin' the whole state of Maine.
It's a long way to go.

- for Paul Fuller

© 2003 by Randy Browning

 

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