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Kevin Gordon
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Goodnight Brownie Ford
The old man's face
A map of scars
Straw Stetson brim
Half Comanche
They called him Brownie
For his Indian skin
I met him once
In a cafe
In my hometown
In a corner singing
Black Jack David,
Don't Let the Deal Go Down
We called him back for more
Goodnight Brownie Ford
Just a kid
Breaking horses
Working wild west shows
Rope and leather
Cards and money
Learning fast how the old song goes
Declared me dead twice, he said
But I never was that far gone
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Yeah that saddle bronc dragged me to the gates of heaven
I couldn't stay down long
Dying ain't what living's for
I snuck out that hospital ward
Goodnight Brownie Ford
Played his guitar
From here to far
Woodsmoke and campfire songs
Float up to the stars til the night is gone
I remember talking to him
More likely, he was talking to me--
Saying “Don't let 'em mess with your music
If you go to Tennessee”
As the fire flared and died
From his cigarette
And he looked me in the eye to ask
A riddle with his next breath--
All the free advice I could afford
Got in his car and closed the door
Goodnight Brownie Ford
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