Smokestack Lightning

 

     Texts of the songs discussed, including a transcription of Howlin’ Wolf’s recording that represents the non-word sounds in his performance, are appended. 

     

 

     Apart from the striking repeated title image Howlin’ Wolf’s “Smokestack Lightning” [1], consists largely a of collage of blues formulae mixed with more significant and effective inarticulate moans and cries.  The song, with its elemental emotional appeal, made number eleven on the R & B charts and has since been covered by countless bands, including significantly the Yardbirds who brought Wolf’s lyrics a huge white audience.

     Musically the performance could hardly be more focused with its driving relentless vamp on a single chord.  The song contains some of the most familiar language in blues literature; set phrases of complaint that define the genre.

 

 

Why don't ya hear me cryin'?

 

Whoa oh, tell me, baby

What's the, matter with you

 

Where did ya, stay last night?

 

Whoa-oh, fare ya well

Never see, a you no more

 

Whoa-oh, who been here baby since,

I-I been gone

 

     This web of lament is then intensified by the non-linguistic utterances so prominent in Wolf’s oeuvre, indeed the basis for his name.  Here the singer bursts beyond the capacity of words, as in scatting, field hollers, and gospel screams, and the yodeling Wolf admired, a kind of eloquent speaking in tongues, giving voice to the suffering of human life expressed also in everyday life at times as wordless sighs or weeping. 

     Against a background of highly conventionalized set phrases, the title image stands out dramatically.  “Smokestack lightning” had appeared earlier in songs by the Charlie Patton and Mississippi Sheiks as well as by Wolf himself. [2]  In spite of this small place in tradition, the expression reportedly puzzled bassist Willie Dixon. [3]  Though discussion continues, Wolf provided a simple and convincing comment on the origin of the image: "We used to sit out in the country and see the trains go by, watch the sparks come out of the smokestack. That was smokestack lightning." [4] 

    In Howlin’ Wolf’s song, the image accumulates all the more signification due to its underdetermination.  A semiotic map of “smokestack lightning” would begin with the direct reference to a steam railway locomotive smokestack which triggers associations common to the blues in which trains suggest most often loss and love longing but sometimes escape and liberation.  The trains were a dramatic intrusion of the outside world for the farm worker, representing specifically the exit from local life, the route to the cities and the North.  The train as an agent of change was often the herald of suffering and its mechanical might seemed all but supernatural.  Countless songs refer to the train separating one-time lovers. [5]  In the song’s immediate predecessors the train’s stack is associated with loss.  Patton sang that the train’s appearance “give me the blues” because the singer is “'fraid she's gettin' on board.”  The railroad association is more tenuous though the separation is more final in the Mississippi Sheiks usage in which the singer is “cryin'” due to finding “my baby/ Layin' on the coolin' floor.”  The melancholy connotations of the train cling to it even when there is no question of anyone riding out of town, when, in fact, the train is reduced to pure symbol.

     The suggestive potency of the striking image of “smokestack lightning” is not limited to the mournful associations of its sound at night, a use reminiscent of the role of the calls of wild geese in Chinese poetry.  The fiery combustion of the engine, its titanic pressures and terrific heat, represent as well the strength of libido that drives all creatures always forward.  The great clouds of steam and smoke generated by a steam locomotive provide a glimpse into the churning heart of life itself.  The glowing sparks seem animated germs of existence.

     Convention is often opposed to innovation and denigrated by critics, though in fact a discerning use of convention allows the economical expression of themes of great complexity.  In Howlin’ Wolf’s “Smokestack Lightning” both musical and verbal resources are restricted to the bare minimum, and one single “floating image,” that of “smokestack lightning,” governs the entire song like that single insistent chord against a tissue of blues commonplaces and even more universal non-verbal utterances.  The image is the richer and the deeper for its measure of indeterminacy.  The songc is a classic not of complexity, but of fierce single-minded intensity, both in feeling and in structure.  Beginning and then periodically dissolving in inarticulate vocalizations, against a collage of floating phrases with great elliptical gaps the listener must complete, the song unforgettably portrays the suffering of the singer as the driving music indicates the unfailing energy to persist in the face of pain and loss. 

 

 1.  “Smoke Stack Lightning” was released in 1956.  In subsequent recording and most covers the song is called “Smokestack Lightning.”  The band consisted of Howlin' Wolf singing and playing harmonica, Hosea Lee Kennard on piano, Willie Johnson and Hubert Sumlin on guitars, Willie Dixon on bass, and Earl Phillips on drums.

 2.  Patton’s “Moon Going Down” (1929) contains the line: “Lord, the smokestack is black and the bell it shine like, bell it shine like, bell it shine like gold/ Oh the smokestack is black and the bell it shine like gold.”  The Mississippi Sheiks’ “Stop and Listen Blues” (1930) contains the lines “Cryin', smokestack lightning/ That bell that shine like gold.”  In 1951 Wolf had released "Crying at Daybreak" which uses the same image: “Smokestack lightnin', shining just like gold/ Honey do you hear me crying?”

3. According to James Segrest.  See his The Life and Times of Howlin' Wolf. 

4.  This line is quoted hundreds of times, including in the “Smokestack Lightning” entry in Rolling Stone’s list of “500 Greatest Rock and Roll Songs, but I have not located its first appearance in print. 

5.  The range of train references in rural songs is suggested by a few examples: “Railroad Blues” by Sam McGee, a white country singer, who says he “went to the depot, looked up on the board/ It read "Good times here, but better down the road."  In “Dixie Flyer Blues” by Bessie Smith the female speaker is leaving, while in Little Junior Parker’s “Mystery Train” she’s likewise on her way, but the persona is male.  In Robert Johnson’s “Love in Vain” it is unclear who is taking the train.  Many songs (such as Henry Thomas’ “Railroadin’” refer to travel by freight train, while in others such as Leadbelly’s “Midnight Special” (and Johnny Cash’s “Folsom Prison Blues”) the train is simply the emblem of freedom.  In Big Bill Broonzy’s “Too Too Train” the engine is a dynamo outdone by a lover’s energy.

 

And she do a little of this

And mama and she do a little of that

And when she put on full steam

Make a freight train jump a track

 

 

 

 

 

 

Smokestack Lightning {Howlin’ Wolf] 1956

 

 

Ah oh, smokestack lightnin'

Shinin', just like gold

Why don't ya hear me cryin'?

 

Whoo hoo

Whoo hoo

Whoo

 

Whoa oh, tell me, baby

What's the, matter with you?

Why don't ya hear me cryin'?

 

Whoo hoo

Whoo hoo

Whoo

 

Whoa oh, tell me, baby

Where did ya stay last night?

A-why don't ya hear me cryin'?

 

Whoo hoo

Whoo hoo

Whoo

 

Whoa-oh, stop your train

Let her, go for a ride

Why don't ya hear me cryin'?

 

Whoo hoo

Whoo hoo

Whoo

 

Whoa-oh, fare ya well

Never see, a you no more

A-why don't ya hear me cryin'?

 

Whoo hoo

Whoo hoo

Whoo

 

Whoa-oh, who been here baby since,

I-I been gone, a little, bitty boy

Girl, be on

 

Whoo hoo

Whoo hoo

Whoo

 

Whoa, smokestack lightnin'

Shinin' just like gold

Why don't you hear me cryin'?

A-whoo-hoo, a-whoo-hoo, whoo

Whoa-oh, tell me, baby

What's the matter here?

Why don't you hear me cryin'?

Whoo-hoo, whoo-hoo, whoo

Whoa-oh, tell me, baby

Where did you stay last night?

Why don't you hear me cryin'?

Whoo-hoo, whoo-hoo, whoo

Whoa-oh, stop your train

Let a poor boy ride

Why don't you hear me cryin'?

Whoo-hoo, whoo-hoo, whoo

Whoa-oh, fare-you-well

Never see a you no more

Why don't you hear me cryin'?

Whoo-hoo, whoo-hoo, whoo

Whoa-oh, who been here baby since

I, I been gone a little bitty boy?

Girl, be on        [heard by some as “derby on”]

A-whoo-hoo, whoo-hoo, whoo

 

 

 

 

Crying At Daybreak [Howlin’ Wolf] 1951

 

 

Tell me baby, what's done matter now

Today been a long and lonesome day

Lonesome day

 

Smokestack lightnin', shining just like gold

Honey do you hear me crying?

 

Today been a long and sad old day

Don't you hear me crying

 

Tell me baby what you got on your mind

Why don't you hear me crying

 

Ain't gonna marry, ain't gonna settle down

Why don't you hear me crying

 

 

 

 

Big Road Blues [Tommy Johnson] 1928

 

 

Cryin', ain't goin' down this big road by myself

Now don't you hear me talkin', pretty mama?

Lord, ain't goin' down this big road by myself

If I don't carry you, gon' carry somebody else

Cryin', sun gonna shine in my back door someday

Now, don't you hear me talkin', pretty mama?

Lord, sun gon' shine in my back door someday

And the wind gon' change, gon' blow my blues away

Baby, what makes you do me like you do do do, like you do do do?

Don't you hear me now?

What makes you do me like you do do do?

Now you think you gon' do me like you done poor Cherry Red

Taken the poor boy's money now, sure, Lord, won't take mine

Now don't you hear me talkin' pretty mama?

Taken the poor boy's money; sure, Lord, won't take mine

Taken the poor boy's money now; sure, Lord, won't take mine

Cryin', ain't goin' down this big road by myself

Now, don't you hear me talkin', pretty mama?

Lord, ain't goin' down this big road by myself

If I don't carry you, gon' carry somebody else

Cryin', sun gon' shine, Lord, my back door someday

Now don't you hear me talkin', pretty mama?

Lord, sun gon' shine in my back door someday

And the wind gon' change, blow my blues away

 

 

 

 

Stop and Listen Blues [Mississippi Sheiks] 1930

 

 

Ev'r day have been there

Long old lonesome day

Now don't ya a-hear me talkin', pretty mama?

Ev'r day have been

Long old lonesome day

Cry, it seem like you-ooo would

Be there ooo-ooo, same old way

 

Cryin', smokestack lightning

That bell that shine like gold

Now don't ya a-hear me talkin', pretty mama?

Ooh, smokestack lightning

Bells that shine like gold

Cryin', I found my baby

Layin' on the coolin' floor

 

Don't a hearse look lonesome, mama

Rollin' for yo' do'?

Now don't ya a-hear me talkin', pretty mama?

Don't a hearse look lonesome

 

Rollin' for yo' do'?

Cryin' she's gone, tell you-ooo, Lord

Won't be-ee-ee back no mo'

 

Ooh, stop and listen

Hear how those bells in toll

Now don't ya a-hear me talkin', pretty mama?

Ooh, stop and listen

Hear the bell it tolls

I had a sweet little faror

But she's dead and gone

 

 

 

 

Moon Going Down [Charlie Patton] 1930 

 

 

Aw, the moon is going down baby, sun's about to shine

Aw, the moon's going down baby, sun's about to shine

Rosetta Henry told me, "Lord, I don't want you hangin' round"

Oh well, where were you now baby, Clarksdale mill burned down?

Oh well, where were you now babe, Clarksdale mill burned down?

(Boy, you know where I were)

I were way down'n Sunflower with my face all full of frown

There's a house over yonder, painted all over green

There's a house over yonder, painted all over green

(Boy, you know I know it's over there)

Lord, the finest young women, Lord, a man most ever seen

Lord, I think I heard that Taylor whistle, Taylor whistle, Taylor whistle blow

Lord, I think I heard that Taylor whistle

(Well now I hear it blowin')

Lord, I ain't gonna stop walkin' 'til I get in my rider's door

Lord, the smokestack is black and the bell it shine like, bell it shine like, bell it shine like gold

Oh the smokestack is black and the bell it shine like gold.

(Cover me boy, you know it looks good to me)

Lord, I ain't gonna walk there, ah, babe ain't 'round no more

Aw, I evil was at midnight, 'til I heard the local blow

I was evil out at night, when I heard the local blow

(Boy it give me the blues...)

I got to see my rider, 'fraid she's gettin' on board

 

“Spoonful” and the Accretion of Meaning

The texts of the songs follow the essay.

     While a rolling stone may indeed gather no moss, a poetic image can accumulate meaning with repeated usage in a way that adds semantic territory while it influences the interpretation of past poems. Both oral and written literary forms depend for their density of coded meaning on such accretion of meaning over time as identical or related images are repeatedly reused by one artist after another.
     “Spoonful” is a central image in the lyric world of the blues. “All I Want Is A Spoonful” by Papa Charlie Jackson was recorded in 1925, and “Spoonful Blues” in 1929 by Charley Patton, placing it in the deepest Delta tradition; Mississippi John Hurt sang used the phrase in “Coffee Blues”; in 1960 Howlin’ Wolf sang Willie Dixon’s “Spoonful” which then spread toward rock and roll in myriad versions, including those by the Paul Butterfield Blues Band, the Cream, and the Grateful Dead, not to mention the group that called itself the Lovin’ Spoonful. Originally signifying simply “a small amount,” the term comes in time to suggest explosive sexuality, high quality, and a junkie’s fix.
     In Jackson’s song the singer asks his love object for just a bit of loving, a spoonful. It is not necessary to “call or write,” her cooking is superfluous, love is his goal. He focuses on that moment of love-making, though it be snatched in passing: “Throw it out the window, I'll catch it ‘fore it falls.” The woman’s identity is secondary; in fact, “There ain’t no one woman got it all.” Through the entire lyric, it is the woman who gives the “spoonful,” that minimal dose of most satisfying love; the man can only plead. Here the phrase clearly emphasizes how little the persona is asking of her, and, accordingly, how churlish would be her refusal. The lady’s position, if Lucy Mae is an example, is equally undiscriminating: she will accept the singer or any handy “monkey man.” [1]
     For “spoonful” the locus classicus must be Charlie Patton’s 1929 recording. In this eloquent and fragmented performance, the speaker again asks his beloved for a spoonful, saying that it is “all I want in this creation.” Yet here her response mirrors his need. Women themselves are “goin’ crazy, every day in their life,” looking for that spoonful. And the ante has increased so that disorder (like that of the song itself), violence, legal retribution, even death may follow the quest. Spoken interjections like “wanna fight!” “would you slap me? Yes I will!” and “I’d kill him” disrupt the melody. The spoonful has caused men to do life in prison. The meaning, originally “a little bit,” has become charged with a powerful sexual implication that threatens at every moment to explode. The original common ground of vehicle and tenor – small quantity – has vanished in irony. Now it is all the greater marvel that a mere spoonful of sexual desire could be so powerful.
     When Mississippi John Hurt picked up the phrase in his “Coffee Blues,” he used the Maxwell House advertising phrase “good to the last drop” which had been introduced in 1917. [2] In Hurt’s song, this simply signifies the high and reliable quality of the coffee or loving, equally relished at the outset and the conclusion of the encounter. With his sweet faux naïf pose, Hurt no sooner introduces the advertising slogan than he identifies it with his beloved who would prepare coffee for him. Hurt’s charming lyrics, delivered with the easy-going lilt of his simple melodic lines, only touch on the disruptive potential of his theme. A preacher may lay his Bible down when tempted by a spoonful. When the persona’s beloved leaves for unknown reasons, he can only follow after and, speaking in a proper and polite manner (“please, ma'am”) ask like a tramp at the door for “just” a lovin’ spoonful. He concludes with praise of love, figured as a taste of Maxwell House coffee.
     Working with this rich bed of earlier associations, Willie Dixon’s “Spoonful” emphasizes the destructive potential of that little bit of love that constitutes the spoonful. “One little spoon” of “your precious love” is “good enough,” yet people “lie, “cry,” “die,” and “fight” about it. The repetitions of this simple ironic motif – so much can emerge from so little – at once marvel at human sexuality and fully participate within it. When asked, Dixon himself commented, “The idea of Spoonful was that it doesn't take a large quantity of anything to be good.”
     From the time of the Folk Revival in the late 50s and the rock version of hip in the late 60s, the popularity of blues standards spread to white audiences. According to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame “Spoonful” is one of the “500 Songs that Shaped Rock and Roll.”
     New uses of the spoonful image arose among musicians and songwriters favoring the counter-cultural and the taboo. The old association with semen gained strength (Perhaps my own place in the structure of society is implied by the fact that I find this meaning valid, though secondary or tertiary, even in the old songs.) For the British critic Paul Oliver, the image refers to “sexual intercourse in a standing position.” [4] The use of spoonful to refer to a junkie’s spoon for cooking up his stuff is a natural extension of meaning for those whose greatest passion was not sexual. Though to Willie Dixon “People who think Spoonful was about heroin are mostly people with heroin ideas,” the image works. Dope and sex both offer the potential for bliss and for ruin. Life is full of disturbance, often over the smallest of things.
     As with other powerful images, this explication could proceed, in the most outstanding cases, almost without limit, until an entire vision of reality is suggested. The songs here cited indicate some elements of the semantic field of “spoonful.” The charm of all metaphors is their open-endedness. As any two things have some points in common and others in which they differ, any combination of objects will form a metaphor, creating a fabulous multiplication of potential for meaning. The fact that each of the songs in the “spoonful” lineage moved and excited listeners indicates that each found precision in the underdetermined image that resonated with lived experience and aesthetic sense in a way that ordinary discourse does not attempt to do.


1. A monkey man in Ida Cox’ song is a country boy, interchangeable with many others, who could never make it in Chicago. Peg Leg Powell sings in a different song “When God made me he didn't make no monkey man.” On the other hand the Rolling Stones proclaim “Well I am just a monkey man/ I’m glad you are a monkey, monkey woman too, babe.”

2. I find no prior use of that phrase (though to “milk to the last drop,” a fine down-home image with a quite different meaning, did exist).

3. In I am the Blues: the Willie Dixon Story, 148.

4. Screening the Blues, 198-9.


This site includes a good many other essays treating blues songs as poetry. To see the others open the Index under the current month in the archive and consult section 5D “songs.”



All I Want Is a Spoonful (Papa Charlie Jackson)

I told you once, this makes twice
That's last dime, don't you call or write
'Cause all I want, honey babe, is just a spoonful
Spoonful

You can brown your gravy, fry your steak
Sweet mama, don't make no mistake
'Cause all I want, honey babe, is just a spoonful
Spoonful

Just as sure as the winter follows the fall
There ain't no one woman got it all
'Cause all I want, honey babe, is just a spoonful
Spoonful

Lucy Mae's a woman that you can't understand
Well she's lookin' for you or a monkey man
'Cause all I want, honey babe, is just a spoonful
Spoonful

Now, cool kind mama, says you needn't to stall
Throw it out the window, I'll catch it 'fore it falls
'Cause all I want, sweet mama, is just a spoonful
Spoonful

I got the blues so bad, I couldn't sleep last night
My cool kind mama want to fuss and fight
'Cause all I want, sweet mama, is just a spoonful
Spoonful

Now I'm so glad that the dog can't talk
If you [can, keep him/it/'er staked, save a morning walk]
'Cause all I want, sweet mama, is just a spoonful
Spoonful

Now if you don't believe that I can run mighty fast
Ask that man that run me last
'Cause all I want, honey babe, is just a spoonful
Spoonful


A Spoonful (Charley Patton )

(Spoken: I'm about to go to jail about this spoonful)

In all a spoon', 'bout that spoon'
The women goin' crazy, every day in their life 'bout
A...

It's all I want, in this creation is a...
I go home (spoken: wanna fight! ) 'bout a...

Doctor's dyin' (way in Hot Springs! ) just 'bout a...
These women goin' crazy every day in their life 'bout
A...

Would you kill a man dead? (spoken: yes, I will! ) just
'Bout a...
Oh babe, I'm a fool about my...

(Spoken: Don't take me long! ) to get my...
Hey baby, you know I need my...

It's mens on Parchman (done lifetime) just 'bout a...
Hey baby, (spoken: you know I ain't long) 'bout my...

It's all I want (spoken: honey, in this creation) is
A...

I go to bed, get up and wanna fight 'bout a...
(Spoken: Look-y here, baby, would you slap me? Yes I
Will! ) just 'bout a...
Hey baby, (spoken: you know I'm a fool a-) 'bout my...

Would you kill a man? (spoken: Yes I would, you know
I'd kill him) just 'bout a...
Most every man (spoken: that you see is) fool 'bout
His...

(Spoken: You know baby, I need) that ol'...
Hey baby, (spoken: I wanna hit the judge 'bout a) 'bout
A...

(Spoken: Baby, you gonna quit me? Yeah honey! ) just
'Bout a...
It's all I want, baby, this creation is a...

(Spoken: look-y here, baby, I'm leavin' town! ) just
'Bout a...
Hey baby, (spoken: you know I need) that ol'...

(Spoken: Don't make me mad, baby! ) 'cause I want my...
Hey baby, I'm a fool 'bout that...

(Spoken: Look-y here, honey! ) I need that...
Most every man leaves without a...

Sundays' mean (spoken: I know they are) 'bout a...
Hey baby, (spoken: I'm sneakin' around here) and ain't
Got me no...
Oh, that spoon', hey baby, you know I need my


Coffee Blues (Mississipi John Hurt)

This is the 'Coffee Blues', I likes a certain brand Maxwell's House, it's good till the last drop Just like it says on the can, I used to have a girl Cookin' a good Maxwell House, she moved away Some said to Memphis and some said to Leland
But I found her, I wanted her to cook me Some good Maxwell's House, you understand? If I can get me just a spoonful of Maxwell's House Do me much good as two or three cups this other coffee
I've got to go to Memphis,
bring her back to Leland
I wanna see my baby
'bout a lovin' spoonful,
my lovin' spoonful
Well, I'm just got to have my lovin', I found her
Good mornin', baby,
how you do this mornin'?
Well, please, ma'am,
just a lovin' spoon,
just a lovin' spoonful
I declare, I got to have my lovin' spoonful
My baby packed her suitcase and she went away
I couldn't let her stay for my lovin',
my lovin' spoonful
Well, I'm just got to have my lovin'
Good mornin', baby, how you do this mornin'?
Well, please, ma'am, just a lovin' spoon,
just a lovin' spoonful I declare,
I got to have my lovin' spoonful
Well, the preacher in the pulpit,
jumpin' up and down
He laid his Bible down for his lovin'
in't Maxwell House all right?




Spoonful (Willie Dixon, sung also by Howlin’ Wolf and others)

It could be a spoonful of coffee
It could be a spoonful a-tea
But one little spoon
Of your precious love
Is good enough for me

Men lie about that spoonful
Some cry about that spoonful
Some die about that spoonful
Ev'rybody fight about a spoonful

That spoon, that spoon
That spoonful

It could be a spoonful a-water
To save you from the desert sand
But one spoon of lead
From my forty-five
Will save you from another man

Men lie-ii about that spoonful
Some cry-ii about that spoonful
Some die-ii about that spoonful
Ev'rybody fight about a spoonful

That spoon, that spoon
That spoonful
That spoon, that spoon
That spoonful

It could be a spoonful a-sugar
It could be a spoonful a-tea
But one little spoon
Of your precious love
Is good enough for me-ee

Men lie-ii about that spoonful
Some cry-ii about that spoonful
Some die-ii about that spoonful
Ev'rybody fight about a spoonful

That spoon, that spoon
That spoonful
A-that spoon, that spoon
That spoonful

That spoon, that spoon
That spoonful
That spoon, that spoon
That spoonful.

Down the Dirt Road Blues

     One of the seminal works of the Delta blues, Charley Patton’s version of “Down the Dirt Road Blues” opens with the persona suspended in an existential abyss: “I'm goin’ away, to a world unknown.” At the mercy of unknown forces, the helpless speaker is carried toward a hidden fate. The first verse concludes with the potent ambiguity of “I'm worried now, but I won't be worried long” which sounds very much as though he is approaching death, but which might also mean he is close to happiness.
     The second verse introduces the erotic motif, reinforcing the positive side of the implications of the opening. Though the woman may be standoffish, what the troubadours called “daunger,” this may be part of a love-game, biologically determined, or an element of an individual relationship. With the repetition of the euphemism “something” intensifying the psychic energy by indicating taboo territory, the singer carries on a pursuit of the beloved even as he is being trundled off to the unknown.
     The term “rider” triggers an entire series of metaphors. The vernacular expression is entangled with blues history from the outset. [1] In its earliest uses the expression “easy rider” described a skilled horseman or his animal. The ambiguity between the reference to horse and to rider remains with the expression through its development. It became naturally associated with the complex of sexual metaphor based on the similarity between riding and intercourse familiar from William IX as well as Patton’s own “Pony Blues.” [2] From there some occurrences of the expression emphasize the “easy” element, referring either to promiscuous sex or to freeloading. Thus, at the same time that the singer laments the evasiveness of the object of his desire, he alludes to her habitual complaisance.
     In the third verse the speaker’s psychic agitation has increased; his world is in disorder. The “chopping” metaphor for intercourse is close to the etymological roots of “fuck”: to strike, while the phrase “chips flyin' everywhere” suggests confusion. The same anxious instability is then expressed in geographical terms. The singer can find no greater contentment in a “foreign” land, the [Indian] Nation (that is, Oklahoma).
     He then develops the metaphor of going abroad as a statement of alienation. The bluesman always finds himself “a long way from home.” Whether the fourth verse refers to the longing for home of a WWI soldier or more generally to the feeling that the human is stranded on this earth, the fourth verse moves the song deeper into melancholy. Apart from being in some sense “overseas,” the speaker’s gloom is unappreciated by the unnamed “others.”
     This depression is dramatically deepened in the penultimate stanza when the atmosphere has turned lethal: “Every day seem like murder here.” Surely the line “My God, I'm no sheriff” expresses not only sadness but the speaker’s vulnerability. Whereas a sheriff might be expected to be at home in a murderous situation, the singer suffers due to his beloved’s rejecting him.
     The final stanza emphasizes the intolerable loneliness of the solitary traveler on a lost dirt road in a remote area. Though no respite is available, he cannot endure the road alone. But his complaint elicits only a mocking interjected line suggesting that, should he want a companion, he would find little solace but rather would himself bear a greater burden. Then the garbled syntax of the masterful conclusion, while clearly seeking to reject the previous line’s suggestion, suspends meaning.[3] The subject may after all carry someone, but he may also be carried.
     Thus the poet continues down that obscure and dusty road, uncertain about the future, unsettled in soul, just as his listener or reader must do, sustained only by the thread of his lyric. Though it frames its narrative around a love relationship, Patton’s song speaks to the same audience that Gilgamesh commanded when he reflected on mortality, Agamemnon when he returned finally from war, or even St. John of the Cross when he wandered in the dark night of the soul.


I'm goin’ away, to a world unknown
I'm goin’ away, to a world unknown
I'm worried now, but I won't be worried long

My rider got somethin’, she's tryin’a keep it hid
My rider got somethin’, she's tryin’a keep it hid
Lord, I got somethin’ to find that somethin’ with

I feel like choppin’, chips flyin' everywhere
I feel like choppin’, chips flyin' everywhere
I been to the Nation, oh Lord, but I couldn't stay there

Some people say them oversea blues ain’t bad
(spoken: Why, of course they are)
Some people say them oversea blues ain’t bad
(spoken: What was a-matter with ‘em?!)
It must not a-been them oversea blues I had

Every day seem like murder here
(spoken: My God, I'm no sheriff)
Every day seem like murder here
I'm gonna leave tomorrow, I know you don't bid my care

Can't go down any dirt road by myself
Can't go down any dirt road by myself
(spoken: My Lord, who ya gonna carry?)
I don't carry my, gonna carry me someone else


1. Big Bill Broonzy claimed to have learned the blues from a former slave who went by the name See See Rider in 1908 or so. Ma Rainey’s song with the title See See Rider was released in 1925.

2. To mention only a few other variations: In Astrophil and Stella #49 love rides Sidney while he rides a horse. For Freud the horse was the id and the rider the ego. (See, for instance, The Ego and the Id: On Metapsychology.) Plato constructed a more complex chariot allegory in the Phaedrus. In voodoo the divine loa “rides” the worshipper when she or he is possessed.

3. The text is transcribed differently by different listeners. I comment here on the most common version, taking that as my text, whether or not it exactly corresponds to Patton’s intentions. (Authors’ intentions in general can no more be known than individuals’ in our lived experience.)


This site includes a good many other essays treating blues songs as poetry. To see the others open the Index under the current month in the archive and consult section 5D “songs.”