The Telling Takes Me Home
Let me sing to you all those old songs I know
Of the wild, windy places locked in timeless snow,
And the wide, crimson deserts where the muddy rivers flow.
It seems sad sad, but the telling takes me home.
Come along with me to some places that I've been
Where people all look back and they still remember when,
And the quicksilver legends, like sunlight, turn and bend
It seems sad, but the telling takes me home.
I could tell you all some lies, just made up for fun,
And the loudest, meanest brag could beat the fastest gun.
I'll show you all some graves that tell the way the West was won.
It's sad, but the telling takes me home.
We'll travel down the wagon roads or along the iron rail,
Past the lines of rusty Cadillacs that mark the boom town trail,
Where dreamers never win and doers never fail,
It seems sad, but the telling takes me home.
I'll sing of my amigos, who come from down below,
And whisper in their loving tongue the songs of Mexico.
They work their stolen Eden, lost so long ago.
It seems sad, but the telling takes me home.
I'll sing about an emptiness the East has never known,
Where coyotes don't pay taxes and a man can be alone,
And you'd have to walk forever just to find a telephone.
It seems sad, but the telling takes me home.
copyright Utah phillips
Let me sing to you all those old songs I know
Of the wild, windy places locked in timeless snow,
And the wide, crimson deserts where the muddy rivers flow.
It seems sad sad, but the telling takes me home.
Come along with me to some places that I've been
Where people all look back and they still remember when,
And the quicksilver legends, like sunlight, turn and bend
It seems sad, but the telling takes me home.
I could tell you all some lies, just made up for fun,
And the loudest, meanest brag could beat the fastest gun.
I'll show you all some graves that tell the way the West was won.
It's sad, but the telling takes me home.
We'll travel down the wagon roads or along the iron rail,
Past the lines of rusty Cadillacs that mark the boom town trail,
Where dreamers never win and doers never fail,
It seems sad, but the telling takes me home.
I'll sing of my amigos, who come from down below,
And whisper in their loving tongue the songs of Mexico.
They work their stolen Eden, lost so long ago.
It seems sad, but the telling takes me home.
I'll sing about an emptiness the East has never known,
Where coyotes don't pay taxes and a man can be alone,
And you'd have to walk forever just to find a telephone.
It seems sad, but the telling takes me home.
copyright Utah phillips
Performed by Dave Eskelsen