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about
Banjo the dog told me to write this. Blind Bob and his cousin Marc visited me before leaving on a country-wide hitchhiking journey. I wondered how Bob made it out alive the last time he hitchhiked across country. Bob is foul-mouthed, stinky, and very smart. Most people don't know that last part. He used to make people in the Soo seem like giants, like folklore. So, Banjo told me to do the same for him. Banjo the dog is laughing.
lyrics
Blind Bob Quinn was a man who couldn't sin.
Out all night drunk 'n rilled, hooting' hollering,
gettin wild. I bet one day he'll go
Up to heaven and cut a rug for us all.
His foot-fall thunder'll make you roll.
Get back up, don't you fall down flat,
Blind Bob jives with a cane and a hat.
He'll knock you down just to pick you back on up
Just to knock you down again 'n call you a friend,
'n say, "you looking mighty ugly these days,"
but he loves ya smile, can't get enough.
Every cig he smoked is a stolen puff.
That Blind Bob Quinn got the blues.
I'll tell ya a story about Blind Bob's soul,
the lost-and-found of the Soo folklore.
He lost it way back before he knew he had it
to a parkin' lot pirate on a tricycle
when he gambled away Sault. Ste. Marie.
That town with the locks, speckled 'n chicken-pocked,
ore-frieght industry ticked the tock.
That ain't steam it's coal fumes.
As a child Bob cursed the plumes
he wished that town would burn.
So he read the books and he learnt the words,
talked 'bout traveling like a mocking bird.
Never had no whip, no wheels to spin,
he always hitched rides from the trouble he in.
Never got caught, but that shit got old.
So he walked down to the Co-Op grocery store
where a pirate on a tricycle out the door said,
"I bet you think you know what real trouble is, boy."
But Blind Bob, man, he ain't no fool.
Bob said, "You sure are right, I know how to lose a fight,
but I always win at this gamblin thing. So, If I guess
what's under that eye-patch, old man,
you gotta buy my way
'Cross the country with this here guitar.
All I wanna do is travel far. An if I lose
I'll give ya my soul, old man.
I'll even throw in my clean record, too."
Well the parkin lot pirate thought it musta been a joke.
He leaned right back 'n drew a long toke
'n said, "If you guess what's 'neath my eye-patch, boy,
I'll lay a curse on all this land
that when you play your guitar wherever you are
folks'll drop money down on the floor.
You won't go hungry but you might get blue.
If you're wrong, I get your soul
and clean record, too."
The bet was fit 'n they both was smitten.
The devil never been this north of the mitten.
The pirate grewed horns 'n got out his pitch fork,
a crowd had gathered to see it all happen.
Bob had till the freighter passed to place his guess.
The fudgies all watched the boat go by.
Townsfolk looked at Bob 'n cried.
No one ever knew what's under
the Devil's old eye-patch.
So, Blind Bob was sure to lose.
But he'd hear this story before in a book
'n he recognized the Devil's stanky look.
He said, "I know what's under your
greasy ol' eye-patch:
the stink-sack of a skunk.
That's why your eyes burn when you laugh so loud
and you stink so bad you can never keep a crowd.
You a bad boweevil, you always been evil.
But I lock the lakes and I shake the gates.
I got six bullets and they're all for you,
Rock 'n roll, motherfucker.
The Devil hung his head away in his hands.
Blind Bob exposed all his plans.
He channeled the smokestacks 'n cursed the lands.
Lightnin struck 'n the world shut up.
He said, "Blind Bob, go, man. Play
Wherever you will, just don't sit still.
Play your guitar to empty a till.
Keep your soul 'n clean record, too.
I don't need 'em anyway."
The townsfolk all hoorayed.
Finally, Bob could lit outta town,
no one wanted to see his face around.
All the nasty jokses 'n no-good hoaxes
left town with Bob.
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