1. |
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CHORUS:
He's a sheetrocker from South Dakota,
He's got a dog named Biff and a wife named Rhoda,
He likes American made, would never own a Kubota,
He's a sheet rocker from South Dakota.
---
He's been livin' for a time in the green Northeast,
Plying his trade to whoever he meets,
But his thoughts drift back to his home in Pierre,
To the people he loves and to the dry, open air.
He says, "The only kind of sky for a South Dakota guy is a big blue, wide open South Dakota sky,
And if it's mountains you seek, climb Harney Peak, and let the Black Hills soothe your soul.
Sioux Falls to the east, Rapid City out west, and the quiet kind of people that I love best,
The salt of the earth from Mobridge to Winner, eatin' ham for breakfast and steaks for dinner."
CHORUS
He was the best sheetrocker that folks had ever seen, but he seemed a little distant, maybe even mean,
He worked hard all day, was sure with his hands, while in his dreams he rode through endless Badlands.
He says, "As soon as I can, I'm goin' back home, where me and Biff can just wander and roam, these New England towns all seem so small, I need to be out in the open, walkin' tall.
My work will endure, and you're welcome for that, but my brain says to 'scat' and to never look back", so he packed up his tools, said goodbye to everyone, and he took off down the road towards the settin' sun.
CHORUS
The only kind of sky for a South Dakota guy is a big blue, wide open South Dakota sky...
Hey, hey, South Dakota!
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2. |
I Followed Her to Fargo
06:13
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It was early July when she told me the news,
And summer’s the most impulsive of seasons.
Opportunity called, and she couldn’t say no,
The conversation overflowed with good reasons.
And as for me, I was footloose and free,
Unbound and unfocused and unsure.
“What if I tag along?” I heard myself say,
Too stupid to catch that her eyes cut away.
I told myself this, and I told myself that.
And I threw common sense to the wind.
If I have a choice, why be lonesome and blue?
So I followed her to Fargo, and that’s when I knew...
It started OK, as these things often do,
The adventure, the excitement, a new scene.
Different places to see, new people to meet,
An apartment near Sts. Anne and Joachim.
But she had a base, and a steady working space,
With her gig down at NDSU.
While I drifted around and wandered through town,
Getting lost and then found everyday.
As for work, well, let’s see, there was data entry,
A craft store, a coffee shop, a bar.
Landscaping with Bob, a telemarketing job,
And a dozen other things I’ve mostly forgotten.
I told myself this, and I told myself that.
And tried to keep the doubts far away.
I wanted it all to be poetic and true,
So I followed her to Fargo, and that’s when I knew...
The first winter there, we got 12 feet of snow,
The next winter there was a goddamned El Nino.
The uncertainty around us seemed to grow by the day,
Even the river flowed the wrong fucking way.
And I drifted, she drifted, we shifted like clouds,
As two years passed uneasily by.
And the distance it grew, til back home I flew,
I’m not sure she even bothered to say goodbye.
When the words get stuck, you find something to say.
When the game seems rigged, you still gotta play.
When the light turns to yellow, do you pause or speed through?
I followed her to Fargo, and that’s when I knew...
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3. |
Grace in the Black Hills
05:23
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In summer ‘27, the nation’s business slowing down,
We decided as usual to get the heck out of town.
Far from the bustle and the capital’s damp,
We headed out to Dakota to find new trails to tramp.
Preparations were made, all the details just so,
To move the whole government takes time, don’t you know.
But I took it in stride and found the humor in things,
And was ready to see what our summer might bring.
CHORUS
Grace in the Black Hills, Grace in the Black Hills,
Not really so different from Vermont’s hills and chills.
These aren’t the Badlands, though they’re not very far.
Grace in the Black Hills, watching the stars.
It’s a beautiful place, in the wilds of the west,
And it reminded me fondly of the hills I love best.
Those green Vermont mountains, so lovely, so high,
And so far away, but we’ll return, by and by.
Cal asked to go fishing and enjoy a look-about,
Get the views from the water, maybe land a big trout.
But I laughed so hard that I nearly got sick,
‘Cause they stuck my poor husband in a canoe named “Beaver Dick”.
CHORUS
It was a vacation of sorts, but there was work still to do,
Correspondence to keep up with, and events coming due.
Luncheons and tea times with the ladies in town,
But I always tried for a minute to watch the sun going down.
Wish my youngest could see this, but he’s gone to his rest.
Losing that angel put my faith to the test.
But I know that I’ll see him, and we’ll laugh in the sky.
Maybe that’s him there in that star shooting by.
CHORUS
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4. |
Shadehill Sunrise
06:32
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I rolled in close to ten, after hours on the road,
Wiped out and half blind, little idea where I was.
The rain had been steady since the Nebraska state line.
Gray upon gray, and fading to black over time.
I found the campground OK, and a spot in it to park,
And felt the weird disorientation of arriving after dark.
I got glimpses of the land in brief lightning flashes.
Pitching the tent seemed too hard, so I slept in the car.
And wondered again why I’d wandered this way,
Random destinations for day after day,
Drifting and shifting away from a place,
I’d settled but unsettled, a past to erase.
In the morning, soft light, the rain swept away,
Puddles and mist in the air.
I feel exhausted and fried as the sun starts to rise,
And I see there’s a river in front of me.
As I look at the cliffs, I remember the tales,
Of how they drove the buffalo over.
Before guns, before horses, before the end of their choices,
Channeling the herd towards the edge.
And it makes me wonder, I can almost hear that thunder,
Smell the fear, the dust, and above, a clear sky,
And I long for a moment, before the deadly plunge,
For a chance to see a buffalo fly.
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The Franklin Farm Portland, Maine
The Franklin Farm is the moniker of John Sayles, a Maine-based guitarist, singer, songwriter, and producer. A dedicated home recorder since the early 1990's, John is also active in the Portland music scene, as a solo performer at area farmers' markets, co-ops, and coffee shops, as a member of the band Futureshoes, and as half of the musical mantra duo, Jaap. Thanks for listening! ... more
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