Don’t Take Your Guns To Town – Johnny Cash

A young cowboy named Billy Joe grew restless on the farm
A boy filled with wonderlust who really meant no harm
He changed his clothes and shined his boots
And combed his dark hair down
And his mother cried as he walked out

Don’t take your guns to town son
Leave your guns at home Bill
Don’t take your guns to town

He laughed and kissed his mom
And said your Billy Joe’s a man
I can shoot as quick and straight as anybody can
But I wouldn’t shoot without a cause
I’d gun nobody down
But she cried again as he rode away

Don’t take your guns to town son
Leave your guns at home Bill
Don’t take your guns to town

He drank his first strong liquor then to calm his shaking hand
And tried to tell himself he had become a man
A dusty cowpoke at his side began to laugh him down
And he heard again his mothers words

Don’t take your guns to town son
Leave your guns at home Bill
Don’t take your guns to town

Filled with rage then
Billy Joe reached for his gun to draw
But the stranger drew his gun and fired
Before he even saw
As Billy Joe fell to the floor
The crowd all gathered ’round
And wondered at his final words

Don’t take your guns to town son
Leave your guns at home Bill
Don’t take your guns to town

Johnny Cash and James Wright

In “Walk The Line” there is scene of Cash lying in hammock while a bird flies over him. When I saw this scene I immediately thought of this poem by James Wright.

Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy’s Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota

Over my head, I see the bronze butterfly

Asleep on the black trunk,

Blowing like a leaf in green shadow.

Down the ravine behind the empty house,

The cowbells follow one another

Into the distances of the afternoon.

To my right,

In a field of sunlight between two pines,

The droppings of last year’s horses

Blaze up into golden stones.

I lean back, as the evening darkens and comes on.

A chicken hawk floats over, looking for home.

I have wasted my life.

— James Wright

Home of the Blues

Just around the corner there’s heartache.
Down the street that losers use.
If you can wade in through the teardrops,
you’ll find me at the Home of the Blues.

I walk and cry while my heartbeat
keeps time with the drag of my shoes.
The sun never shines through this window of mine.
It’s dark at the Home of the Blues.

Oh, but the place is filled with the sweetest mem’ries.
Mem’ries so sweet that I cry.
Dreams that I’ve had left me feelin’ so bad,
I just want to give up and lay down and die.

So if you’ve just lost your sweetheart,
and it seems there’s no good way to choose.
Come along with me, mis’ry loves company.
You’re welcome at the Home of the Blues.