Thomas Anderson

singer, songwriter, rock 'n' roller

Son House's House

by Thomas Anderson

from the album The Debris Field

Son House's house,

His son lives there now;

He says he's his son,

It's his house anyhow.

I used to go sometimes

'Til they asked me to stop,

I went some more

Then he called the cops.

Well times are just tough,

It's hard to survive;

I tried livin' by my wits,

I was just half alive.

Storm comin' in,

Radar on TV;

No room in the cellar

'Cause of the Christmas tree.

God send his rainbow

And the national guard,

I've been dodging hailstones

In my front yard.

Bats in the belfry,

Squirrels in the attic,

Radio's on

Just playin' static.

Got a bad foundation,

Dry wall's all cracked;

Plumber shakes his head,

Says the whole line's collapsed.

Paint's all peeling,

Windows are gone;

The city's complaining-

No grass in the lawn.

Well Son House's son,

If he had any sense,

He'd spend all his money

On a big tall fence.

Sally's in the hayloft

And the moon is bright,

I'll be with her directly

If the dogs don't bite.

Sally say, "Look-

It's a shooting star,

But its lights are flashing

And it's big as a car."

I can't believe it,

It's out past the trees,

Somebody's gettin' out

And he's headed for me.

Man in a spacesuit

Walk in the door,

Say, "Is this the way

To Sycamore?"

I say, "Well no,

Go back to the gate,

Go three miles east

To the interstate."

He looks at Sally,

Then he looks some more,

Laughs and says, "Looks like

She's been to Sycamore."

I say, "What the hell

Is that supposed to mean?

She ain't been anywhere,

She's the homecoming queen."

And he's laughing so hard

He nearly falls on his head,

Says, "See you on prom night,

If I got the bread."

Then things get quiet,

Quiet as a mouse;

I say, "Get your ass

Outta Son House's house."

Son House's house....