Buxton

I take my fiddle to the tavern. Every friday night I play

Like that steamy summer evening down near buxton

The last stop on the underground - about a mile away

He came in slow and kind of cautious

He came in slow, with eyes all full of fear

Took a chair way down at the furthest table

I saw he held a fiddle, so rough and so severe

His eyes dropped to the table when I invited him to play

A fiddle tune for the crowded room

Cause I thought he'd want to celebrate

He said, this table looks like cherry, just like my violin

But it's all done up with polish

The likes of which I've never seen

Way, way back, can you remember

Way, way back to your childhood days

All the roughneck boys in the old schoolyard

How they pushed you down, never let you play?

Give those boys the weight of a rifle

Give those boys the weight of the law

Give them boys about three hundred years

To reckon this is the way things are

Then he struck down on his strings with such a vengeance

He all but strangled off the tune

Of some old reel meant to be far lighter

Done up so forceful on his instrument so crude

I said, son, why do you bend you bow so fiercely?

You should be happy now you're free

He dropped the fiddle from his chin and faced me

He said, sir, it's best you let my anger be

Forgive me if I'm edgy, but these fields outside your town

Look flat and burned just like the earth

Where the southern sun come beating down

I know it don't sound pretty, the way I bow you song

But if you want to hear how it grabs my ear

Then maybe you should play along

Then it felt like something took hold of my bow stroke

The moment I tried to play along

The beat began to echo like a footfall

His old boots stomped out gunshots

And his high strings wailed like hounds

Until the noise spooked a snowy mare outside the window

And the young man watched her bolt with widened eyes

We had horses just like that back in kentucky

White as a sheet against a burning midnight sky

He said, forgive me for the fury. Your fiddle plays so well

But even these are carved from trees growing just this side of hell

Forgive me for my fury. I'd lose it if I could

But a fiddle string ain't the only thing

I've seen strung up on cherry wood

Way, way back, can you remember

Way, way back to your childhood days

All the roughneck boys in the old schoolyard

How they pushed you down, never let you play?

Give those boys the weight of a rifle

Give those boys the weight of the law

Give them boys about three hundred years

To reckon this is the way things are

Way, way back, can you remember

Way, way back to your childhood days

All the roughneck boys in the old school yard

How they pushed you down, never let you play?

Give those boys the weight of a rifle

Give those boys about a ton of lead

Give them boys one devil of a passage

From a good book they have never read