6. Deeper Waters
Lyrics & music: Andrew Lawrence;
© 1995 Andrew Lawrence
Vocal and Guitar: Mike Agranoff
This is one of the few songs I've covered whose arrangement I've left virtually unchanged from the composer's. Andy's guitar setting (standard tuning, capoed to the 2nd fret) is tricky to execute cleanly, but so perfect for this poignant story that I couldn't think of anything I would change.
When Jacob was born back in '22,
Seems he already had chores to do.
Bound to his farm like the blue tattoo burned into his arm.
Never had nothin' but a patch of land
That he worked himself with his one son, Randy.
Truth be told, weren't worth a damn.
Little matchbook of a farm.
Jacob made sure Randy went to school,
But the kid learned more from a plow and a mule.
"Reckon we're as smart as your average fool," either one would claim.
Randy went away for about a year.
Thought he could find him a fine career.
But all he found was a chance to hear
Something call him by his name.
Call him home where his fingers and his toes know the ground.
Home, to the barking and the scrambling of the hounds.
Home, where your white oak grows,
And Cold Creek flows
Down from deeper waters.
Randy never heard his father to complain,
'Cept for falling prices and the lack of rain.
But lately he'd been talking 'bout the constant pain [originally "aches and pains"] tryin' to slow him down.
Then one day on the upper hill
Randy found his father fallen deathly ill,
Lyin' quiet, but breathin' still
So he drove him into town.
Checked him in a hospital late at night.
Put him in a room with florescent light.
Folks come 'round all dressed in white to plug him to machines.
Couldn't have a drink and he couldn't smoke,
And he cursed them to hell every hole they'd poke [originally "they poked"]
Till he hardly ever woke,
Set to working in his dreams.
Back to home, where the years were laid like crops in a row.
Home, where his garden needs a lesson from a hoe.
Home, with his friends and kin,
And storms rollin' in
Down from deeper waters.
Then a couple of days become a couple of weeks.
Randy saw his paw gettin' thin in the cheeks.
Spent like a stalk when they'd stripped away the corn.
Randy lay awake late into night,
Knowin' that the whole thing just weren't right,
Knowin' Jacob ought to die where he was born.
So Randy parked the pickup by the rear door,
Found an empth gurney on the second floor.
Slipped by the nurse when he was sure that Jacob was alone.
Kept talkin' soft in his father's ear.
Said, "You're all right now. Nothing more to fear.
Gonna get you out of here.
You got chores to do at home."
Back in his woods around a quarter mile,
Jacob seemed aware for a little while.
Randy coulda sworn that he'd seen him smile before he passed along.
Cops came by at the break of day,
But no one 'round here had a word to say.
Nothing but a prayer to pray,
Sending Jacob's spirit on.
Back to home, where he's harvesting the seeds that he'd sown.
Home, where his Maker gladly gathers in his own.
Home, where we're poured one day
From pots of clay
Into deeper waters.