Blues on Highway 401

For Brian Blaine.

Original lyrics and music copyright © 2024 by Geoffrey Clarfield.

Blues on Highway 401

I’ll tell you when I get the blues

It’s on highway 401

When I see those rows and rows of cars

I feel my time has come

I am a prisoner of this highway

And I am trying to be free

But they keep on killing forests

And they are trying to kill me

I would rather drive a two lane

At forty miles an hour

I would rather have my top down

When it rains and when it showers

I speak to Robert Johnson

Bessie Smith just likes to sing

I have lunch with Mama Thornton

And dinner with BB King

I’ve got a wall full of vinyl

A wall of new CDs

But the thing that gives me pleasure

Are the oldest songs from these

I would give away my radio

Give away my stereo phones

To spend one night together

With Billy Holiday all alone

I have no time for hip hop

Rap or modern bands

I don’t like Country Western

When its processed and so bland

I need to hear harmonicas

The grinding of guitars

I need to go to places

That were once full smoking bars

Just give me Mississippi

Before the two world wars

When people knew bout singing

At their porches and front doors

I am seventy five and over

I aint yet fixin to die

I got a house and home and friends

Who tell me truths and do not lie

I have lived and worked in Memphis

Had the river at my feet

I’ve been playing this guitar

And a bass drum with my feet

I heard the symphony orchestras

And a thousand film sound tracks

I would rather play the blues

And have the wind upon my back

I am just a poor curator

Creating’s hard for me

I fill out forms

And ask for grants

From government deputies

They treat me like a stranger

They say these aren’t our songs

They’ve forgotten bout that railroad

That once brought freedom to our ponds

And so I bar b q with Muddy Waters

I drink beer with Jimmy Vaughan

And I thank the stars for 12 bar blues

That are never just one verse long

I would like to turn the tables

I would like to win just once

I’d like a million dollars

So my Blues club just can run

I would bring the great guitarists

I would bring the poorest bands

I would bring the best musicians from the Gulf

Up to this land

I would have a northern bonfire

Serve steaks and drink some rum

I would have the biggest blues bash

In the land of the midnight sun

I'd like to fly and airplane

I wanna sail the seas

I'd like to spend more time

In the town of New Orleans

They say they practise magic there

They say they grow those plants

That make you want to jump and sing

Like Houdo in a trance

I want to play the banjo

It's been my childhood dream

To be the song and dance gal

On the Mississippi Queen