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Tuesday, June 30, 2009
1946-1971
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Monday, June 22, 2009
1970

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Sunday, June 21, 2009
Where it all began... 1969, Macon, Ga
Comma Splices and Prices,
Ol' RJ
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SR 101
Well, the train to Grinder's Switch is runnin' right on time
And them Tucker Boys are cookin' down in Caroline
People down in Florida can't be still
When ol' Lynyrd Skynrd's pickin' down in Jacksonville
People down in Georgia come from near and far
To hear Richard Betts pickin' on that red guitar
Chorus:
So gather 'round, gather 'round chillun'
Get down, well just get down chillun'
Get loud, well you can be loud and be proud
Well you can be proud, hear now
Be proud you're a rebel
'Cause the South's gonna do it again and again
Elvin Bishop sittin' on a bale of hay
He ain't good lookin', but he sure can play
And there's ZZ Top and you can't forget
That old brother Willie's gettin' soakin' wet
And all the good people down in Tennessee
Are diggin' barefoot Jerry and C.D.B
Southern Rock summer starts today,
And them Tucker Boys are cookin' down in Caroline
People down in Florida can't be still
When ol' Lynyrd Skynrd's pickin' down in Jacksonville
People down in Georgia come from near and far
To hear Richard Betts pickin' on that red guitar
Chorus:
So gather 'round, gather 'round chillun'
Get down, well just get down chillun'
Get loud, well you can be loud and be proud
Well you can be proud, hear now
Be proud you're a rebel
'Cause the South's gonna do it again and again
Elvin Bishop sittin' on a bale of hay
He ain't good lookin', but he sure can play
And there's ZZ Top and you can't forget
That old brother Willie's gettin' soakin' wet
And all the good people down in Tennessee
Are diggin' barefoot Jerry and C.D.B
Southern Rock summer starts today,
Sunday, June 14, 2009
1969

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The dark woods, masking slopes of sombre hills;
The grey clouds' leaden everlasting arch;
The dusky streams that flowed without a sound,
And the lone winds that whispered down the passes.
Vista on vista marching, hills on hills,
Slope beyond slope, each dark with sullen trees,
Our gaunt land lay. So when a man climbed up
A rugged peak and gazed, his shaded eye
Saw but the endless vista - hill on hill,
Slope beyond slope, each hooded like its brothers.
It was a gloomy land that seemed to hold
All winds and clouds and dreams that shun the sun,
With bare boughs rattling in the lonesome winds,
And the dark woodlands brooding over all,
Not even lightened by the rare dim sun
Which made squat shadows out of men; they called it
Cimmeria, land of Darkness and deep Night.
It was so long ago and far away
I have forgot the very name men called me.
The axe and flint-tipped spear are like a dream,
And hunts and wars are shadows. I recall
Only the stillness of that sombre land;
The clouds that piled forever on the hills,
The dimness of the everlasting woods.
Cimmeria, land of Darkness and the Night.
Oh, soul of mine, born out of shadowed hills,
To clouds and winds and ghosts that shun the sun,
How many deaths shall serve to break at last
This heritage which wraps me in the grey
Apparel of ghosts? I search my heart and find
Cimmeria, land of Darkness and the Night.
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Wednesday, June 10, 2009
1989

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Wednesday, June 3, 2009
1970ish
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Monday, June 1, 2009
1974
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