Well. there's just no accounting for it. she wasn't able to see the
writin’ on the wall. all kinds of clichés were traipsin’ around in her
brain. she was tryin’ too hard to find one that would fit...it just
made no sense that he would leave. no sense at all. his contract
broken and everything. after all these years in the “Beverleys”. named
for his Mama and all. and damn popular all those years. and even
today. when most didn't appreciate their kind of country music anyway.
still. they were old-timers. so they had quite a following. she was
proud of that. thought he was too...
Ring around the sun
Ring around the moon
It's gonna be dry
It's gonna rain soon
There's no use guessing'
What way it'll be
Weather man's wrong
Just wait and see
Weather man's wrong
Just wait and see
Ring on your finger
Ring on mine
It's gonna be sad
It's gonna be fine
There's no use guessin'
What way it'll be
Those folks are all wrong
Just wait and see
Our folks are wrong
Just wait and see
Ring in the new years
Ring out the old
It's gonna be white
Where your hair was gold
There's no use guessin'
What way it'll be
I'm sure that I love ya
Just wait and see
I'm sure gonna love ya
Just wait and see....
That had been their Signature Song. they had closed
every-which-way-Show with that song. felt silly to sing it now. he had
gone running off with some floozy from Kansas City. how corny was
that? no doubt the hick biddy wanted to get out of that dead old town for
sure. not that Kansas City hadn't always been good to them both. still
a lot of fans left in Kansas. yes indeed. she wasn't even younger than
Lucky. same ages. all three of them. both born in 1944. just before
the war ended. they hit peace runnin'. had great childhoods. the
beginnin’ of the baby boomers and all. in a thrivin’ country loaded
with country and western fans. by the way. anyways. she was no young
chicken. so why? why? why? must be some old sittin'-on-her-groceries
kind of gal. no good white trash. no doubt. didn't want to dwell on
that one tho….
She's the kind'a woman
Sittin' on her groceries
No-good kind'a woman
Just no-good, can't'cha see
You're blind just all blind
The way some men can be
Can't stop lovin' your kind
Just cuz you stopped lovin' me
Wind's gone crazy
Since you gone away
She's a no-good kind'a woman
That's all that I can say
She's the kind'a woman
Sittin' pretty in the sun
No-good kind'a woman
Full’a booze and full'a fun
You're lost just all lost
The way some men can be
Can't stop wantin' you
Just cuz you stopped wantin' me
Wind's gone crazy
Since you gone away
She's a no-good kind'a woman
That's all that I can say
She be the kind'a woman
Makes hay while she can
No-good kind'a woman
Stealin' man after man
You're gone just all gone
The way some men can be
Can't say good bye to you
Just cuz you’re good-bye'in me
Wind's gone crazy
Since you far away
She's a no-good kind'a woman
That's all that I can say
She’s a bad, bad kind'a woman
That's all I want to say....
Now. that song had earned 'em a virtual fortune for some odd reason.
and now look here: it was happenin' to her. Gol darn. go figure. you
give and give and give and he does nothin' but take and take and take.
and then you get left for some no-good. didn't ring real. made her
hear like wax was cloggin' her ears. like from far away. every time
she called him it seemed: nothin'. then more of nothin'. it was a
cryin' shame. had a song about that one besides...
It's a cryin' shame they say
He was a fine young man
Volunteered that day
To go to Viet Nam
Go off to fight some war
Where no one with sense will
Off to some foreign land
Some enemy to kill
Left her for six years
Come home now and again
She promised to be true
Until the letter came
It's such a cryin' shame
To leave some man at sea
Run off with someone else
Forget him set him free
It's such a cryin' shame
Some of 'em don't come home
Never heard from him again
And now she's all alone
It's such a cryin' shame
It's such a cryin’ shame
It’s such a cryin’ shame
so she was alone now. when he had been in Nam he hadn't been faithful
neither. some little woman with long black hair with tiny hands. would
walk on his back to crack it when he had a bad ache. tiny sweet lady…
him and her making sex together. it was just sex is what he said. but
it made her feel bad. that he was so long over there with her. someone
completely different than her big blond brassy self. with her big ones
like pillows arrayed in front of her. cleavage that wouldn't quit. the
direct opposite of the tiny sweet Vietnamese lady. Lucky hated
thinking about her. but she wrote the song about her. without actually
mentioning her. but that little lady messed with her in her mind all
the time she wasn't feeling bad about his latest woman. which was this
Kansas babe. or whatever she was. Lucky started drinking heavy. didn't
help her forget. but it helped her not feel so bad about not
forgetting...
Wishing on each evening star
Were ever you were or are
Wanting you to come to me
Is what I do
When I'm too blue
to cry
Singing almost every song
You ever sang - singing along
To everyone and feeling bad
Is what I do
When I'm too blue
to cry
Wondering most every night
If I was wrong - if you were right
If leaving you was worth this pain
That's what I do
When I'm too blue
to cry
Thinking of you loving her
Not being here - you're there instead
You won't be home - I'm all alone
So what I do
When I'm too blue
is cry
I finally cry
I cry
And cry....
she was singin’ all boozy all the time lately. some fans liked it.
lots of audiences didn't. that was the breaks all right. she didn't
care. she read the article about her in the trash mag. all about how
he had left and how she was losin’ it big time. it was all pretty
sleazy all right. she was gainin’ weight too. her costumes were
getting too tight. and in all the wrong places. she was goin’ off-key
all the time now too. the band couldn't cover for her. so sometimes
they just let her go like she was scatting. they all kept straight
faces about it. but you could tell. they were seein’ a big loss of
gigs and venues comin' up. it was all going sour fast. she was gettin’
to be a has-been real real fast. no good...
it had been so good before. they got along great. everyone would kid
'em about it. how they were sure growin’ like the bramble and the
rose. intertwined. sometimes she thought folks meant she was the
bramble. sometimes they implied - not too nicely at all - that she was
the bramble. and he was the rose. the lovin’ and kind one...
Two hearts all entwined in one
She the moon and he the sun
She all pale and he all bright
He all day and she all night
They were young and they were strong.
Lived for love so far from wrong that
Angels sang and cowboys cried
When their love grew when their love died
Like some brambles round some rose
Thrown on some sad sea
Their love fell and their love flowed
They were thorn and they were true
As any rose that met the dew
The morning came the evening went
Her love was cold his love was spent
Like some brambles round some rose
Thrown on some sad sea
Their love fell and their love flowed....
His lyrics had gotten out of control towards the end. out-of-sync
without much meaning. not the strange clear messages country and
western always delivered when it was good. she kidded him that he was
like some pop star. just singin’ words to sing them. not makin’ any
sense any more. he gave her some lecture about not wantin’ to keep
doin’ the same old same old. about gettin’ into some more pop stuff.
wanted to get out of the guts of C and W. the same June-moon stuff. standin’
by your man and all that. that would be fine. that's what Lucky had
told him. except his lyrics were gettin’ ridiculous. he just pursed
his thin cowboy lips and glared at her. she had been losin’ him for
some time now...
so she wrote her own song. she wrote about how great their love had
been when they were young. how wonderful and handsome he had been. how
jealous she had always been. how cruel he could be. how kind he could
be. how cruel she could be. how kind she could be. it was a sad song
and it was a wonderful song. it didn't have any music. but she would
get one of the guys to make music for it. one of them could. she just
knew it. she closed her eyes that night feelin’ great. feelin’ like it
could all come around. it would all be good. it was all about song.
all about the partnership and the love and everything. all about one
show after the other. about all the honky-tonk days. the
lifestyles-of-the-rich-and-famous days. the bitchy days. the nights of
love and sex. the nights when they hated each other and wouldn't touch
at all. there had been a lot of those. a lot of those. it was a good
song. it would be her come-back song. and he would come back too. back
to her.
that never happened. the lyrics were good. but none of the guys could
make music like he did. so they didn't. and she was fat now. which
wasn't bad. but being sloppy about it was bad. and she was dirty. not
just sloppy. and her voice got bad. from cigarettes and too much
booze. way too much. she stopped goin’ out. the offers of venues
stopped. every thing was just stopped. there had been another time.
another place. when everything had been good. she would write another
song soon. all about that. he would die first maybe. she'd write about
that.
all she needed was for him to come back. if he would come back. that
would be good. but no. he wasn't comin’ back any time soon. maybe
never. she didn't know anymore. she didn't know night from day any
more.
there would be another time for them. they would have another place in
the sun. singin’. and laughin’. there would be a place for that.
but for now. for now there was nothin’. for now: there was no other place to go.
so she drank a lot. with all the old sleeping pills in the house.
and there was no more song
to sing….
a cryin' shame...
it was just so…
just
a cryin’ shame….
