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We recently hosted our usual family gathering over the weekend, which is typically spur of the moment, and prompting the family with Want to come over for dinner?
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She was born in a place called Blue Valley At the foot of the Tennessee hills With the blue birds and blue bells And blue mountain water And the sound of the Blue Whippoorwill But there was no peace in the valley Her daddy, a cruel, ruthless man Used and abused her mind and her body So her mama said run while you can So at fifteen she took to the highway Belongings and guitar in hand And she buried herself in her music The one thing she did understand And she sings like a bird and She writes like a poet Her voice has that high, lonesome sound She hurts And her songs are the best way to show it So the Blue Valley songbird Keeps traveling around She hopes someday she will make it And everyone says that she will When she comes to town, crowds flock around To see the girl from the Tennessee hills She writes her letter back home to her mama In care of the preacher in town They're sacred to her so she Reads them at church And so her daddy cannot track her down And she sings like a bird and She cries like a baby Whenever she turns off the lights She's a whole lot lonesome and A little bit crazy From memories and miseries and Dreams gone awry Blue dress, blue shoes, a blue Cadillac A band dressed in blue by her side Instruments tied to the top and the back Because the Blue Valley songbird Is singing tonight One nighter's, honky tonk's, years flying by She never made it, but Lord knows she tries Expressing the feelings she holds inside And the Blue Valley songbird Is singing tonight Oh the Blue Valley songbird Is singing tonight And she sings like a bird and She writes like a poet Nobody here could forget you You showed us what we had to lose You never planned on the bombs in the sand Or sleeping in your dress blues No, no you never planned on the bombs in the sand Or sleeping in your dress blues You never planned on the bombs in the sand Or sleeping in your dress blues Saigon, it was all gone The same Coke machines As the streets I grew on Down in a mesquite canyon We come walking along the ridge Me and the brothers under the bridge Campsite's an hour's walk from the nearest road to town Up here there's too much brush and canyon For the CHP choppers to touch down Ain't lookin' for nothin', just want to live Me and the brothers under the bridge Come the Santa Ana's, man, that dry brush'll light Billy Devon got burned up in his own campfire one winter night We buried his body in the white stone high up along the ridge Me and the brothers under the bridge Had enough of town and the street life Over nothing you end up on the wrong end of someone's knife Now I don't want no trouble And I ain't got none to give Me and the brothers under the bridge I come home in '72 You were just a beautiul light In your mama's dark eyes of blue I stood down on the tarmac, I was just a kid Me and the brothers under the bridge Come Veterans' Day I sat in the stands in my dress blues I held your mother's hand When they passed with the red, white and blue One minute you're right there
