THE LEGEND OF GATOR RAY
Curtis Ray
He ain’t about appearances; he sure ain’t into no damn puttin’ on
His feelin’s for the real thing, and he probably won’t say nothin’ ‘bout this song
But my old man is my hero; the trouble is,
He don’t believe in heroes (and he’s known more than a few)
He haunted the black tonks as a little kid, and later went out barefoot
Sloggin’ through the swamps with a burlap bag in hand
Snatchin’ cottonmouths to sell to the Serpentarium Man
Down in Miami (his mama would’a died or either killed him)
He played steel guitar for pay when he was just a teen
With my granddad on the doghouse bass
That’s how he met my mama and how I got to be
To know that music made me puts a smile on my face
I heard a rumor ‘bout a boat was bound for Cuba
Might’a been ferryin’ a firearm or two
When the Coast Guard took ‘em down, he had to swim it home
For my Daddy, it was somethin’ else to do
If you city folk come by where he lives this day and time
And toss your litter on the local road
My friend, you may just find your car urged to the curb
And get to hear what’s on Ole Gator’s mind
When it comes down to pollutin’ the land of Tennessee
He possesses what one might call a stubborn stance
And don’t go gettin’ bad, ‘cause he’s not a man to try
When the band begins to play the Violence Dance
Gator was a Wildlife Warden in the worst parts of the swamp
Back in the Day, and he’s done butted heads
With poachers, outlaw bikers, and other forms of trash
So pick yours up before you end in bed
Gator prefers peace, and my stepmom shoots the meat
These days, although he made sure we were fed
Back when we were young, and he’d let the matter slide
If a man without a license was caught fishin’ for his kids
Later on, he moved to Nashville, and he never made it Big
In the way some folks define that word ‘round here
But he did make it as a wordman, writin’ his good songs,
And on the road two hundred days a year
Giving me my first guitar, Gator told me
“Son, this rotten biz is less than zero...
You can’t be a star unless you give up who you are
There ain’t no heroes...”
Well, my old man finally got his land out in the country
‘Bout as far from Music Row as anyone can go; G-d bless his heart
We’ve had our ups and downs and our share of go-arounds, but he’s my hero
And I’ll still sing his songs long after he’s gone on, even if he don’t believe in heroes
Even if he don’t believe in heroes...
11/26/07
