Black Walnut Stains

from by Jake Wasson

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The hills of my homeland are honeycombed with caverns
And my heart is tattooed with black walnut ink
And try as I might, despite how far away I’ve come
I can’t drive the twang from my voice when I drink

I’m a boy from the hills
Lost in a field of soybeans
And I can’t see a damn thing
When I gaze across these plains
55 South’s a fiddler
Who sold his soul to call me
Back to where my heart
Got these black walnut stains

In Illinois they grow corn, but not to make moonshine
Chicago’s got a lake, but it ain’t no Pomme de Terre
it took being miles away from home for months and months on end
To recognize the beauty of the world I know down there.

44 East is carved
Deep into cliffs of limestone
And no matter where I stray I know
My roots are deeper still
I’ll put a girdle ‘round the Earth
But something calls me home
A piece of me lies buried
In those rugged Ozark hills

I am a poor, wayfaring stranger
Traveling through this world alone
There is no sickness,
Toil, or danger
In that fair land to which I go
I'm going there to see my father
I'm going there no more to roam
I am just going over Jordan
I am just going over home


from Corolla, released May 27, 2014



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Jake Wasson West Warwick, Rhode Island

I'm a wayfaring troubadour and longtime busker, currently based in Rhode Island. Folk and blues are at the heart of what I do, but I like to get weird. Enjoy!

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