Backdoor Bum and the Big Landlord
Words and Music by Woody Guthrie
Contact Publisher - TRO-Essex Music Group
Away on up yonder, in the blue green sky
Where the good Angels go to fly,
A Backdoor Bum and a Big Landlord
Went a walking side by side.
Said the Big Landlord to the Backdoor Bum
“My feet’s getting awful tired”
Said the Backdoor Bum to the Big Landlord,
“We’ll camp and build a fire.”
This Landlord said, “I just got here
From a planet called the earth;
I wouldn’t know how to build a camp,
Much less, to build a fire.”
The Old Hobo said, “Yes, I know,
But you’ll freeze dead tonight
If we don’t make a big bonfire
To make this night look bright.”
The Landlord sat and scratched his head
While the old Bum scouted around
For some phosphorus logs to rub with stars
As the dark come tumbling down;
His blaze got bright just as the night
Got darker than the darkest star
His fire looked like a newborn star,
In my universe that night.
This Big Landlord reached in his belt
And he counted his golden chips
The Bum boiled up a starry stew
And he smacked his hungry lips
He said, “You’d sure better fill your gut
With comet stew tonight.”
“No, thank you,” grunted the Landlord,
“I’ve lost my appetite.”
The side street Bum ate down his stew
Then he pulled out a whittling knife
Cut a reedy whistle from a woody limb
And he played in the starshine bright
The Landlord frothed at the mouth and says,
“Please let your music wait
I’m counting out enough gold money
To get in the Pearly covered Gate.”
The Bum rolled over and went to sleep
And the Landlord stayed awake;
Gold and silver he counted all night
Till the sun come daylight to break
They broke their camp and walked and climbed
Up a canyon some made from clouds;
That Landlord couldn’t keep up with the Bum
‘Cause his moneybag pulled him down’.
“Passport nor coins I’ve not got.”
The Bum joshed the guard at the gate
“I’ll blow you a tune on my panpipe flute.”
All the hands passed him down their streets.
The Big Landlord was half a day late
Holding coins in both o’ his hands
One said, “Our city is build of gold.
Your coins you can never spend.”
The Landlord yelled, “I’ll buy this place!
Take me to the Boss Of The Gate!
I’ll buy me a Judge, Medina or two.
Raise your rents and kick you out in the street.”
The guard pushed a button and opened a shaft;
He shot the landlord to Hell.
Now the Devil is dipping his fork in the gold.
But the Landlord’s dollars did melt.
© Copyright Woody Guthrie Publications, Inc. & TRO-Ludlow Music, Inc. (BMI)
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