-Lyrics-
You're Like Monday Morning
(Hawkins/Ohlschmidt)
A long time ago is when I met you
That long time was so long ago
The longer we stayed in that little world of ours
I saw more of you than I ever wanted to know
I one day and realized
(Yeh) It hit me right between the eyes
You’re not my life-long love
You weren’t sent to me from up above
You’re what happened after a lost-weekend binge
You’re like Monday mornin’
You drank way too much whiskey
Maybe I drank too much beer
Love and booze can sure be risky
Cause sober you don’t look so good from here C/
Bridge
A BOTTLE OF TEQUILA’S MY VACATION
IT’S WHERE I NEVER GET THE BLUES
TAKEN ME TO MY FAVORITE DESTINATION
FURTHER AND FURTHER AWAY FROM YOU…
Saturday night you were so lovely
By Monday my vision finally cleared
Now that you’re gone I sit and ponder
The pleasure of you not bein’ here C/
©2006 – J. David Hawkins
Mountainside Music Publishing, Nashville, USA - BMI
Dave- guitar
Jim Ohlschmidt - nylon electric guitar
Rick Gustofson- bass
Steve Hofschied- drums
Kevin Zimmermann- keyboards
Angel From Montgomery
(Prine)
I am an old woman
Named after my mother
An old man is another
Child who's grown old
If dreams were thunder
Lightning was desire
This old house it would've burned down
A long time ago
[Chorus:]
Make me an angel
That flies from montgomery
Make me a poster
Of an old rodeo
Just give me one thing
That i can hold on to
To believe in this livin'
Is just a hard way to go
When i was a young girl
I had me a cowboy
It wasn't much to look at
It was a free ramblin' man
There was a long time
No matter how i tried
The years they just rolled by
Like a broken down dance
[Chorus]
There's flies in the kitchen
I can hear them there buzzin'
And i ain't done nothing
Since i woke up today
But how the hell can a person
Go on to work in the morning
To come home in the evening
And have nothing to say
[Chorus]
©1971 Walken Music, Inc
Dave- guitar
Stan Ginn- drums
Scott Risner- mandolin
Somewhere Far Away
(Hawkins)
This house once was a home
Plastered and painted on
Now it’s a shell for a wreckin’ ball
And a 4-lane highway that’s all
Chorus
Mom and Pop’s grocery gone
The kids have grown and moved on
To New York L.A. somewhere far away
It’s a WalMart superstore
Harry’s five and dime ain’t no more
You can buy all kinds of plastic crap
Like a Chinese-made Old Glory baseball cap
C/
Ev’ry time I go back home
To the city streets I used to roam
I gotta cry as I look around
At this concrete nightmare that once was my town
C/
©2006 J.David Hawkins
Mountainside Music Publishing, Nashville, USA-BMI
Dave- guitar
Jim Ohlschmidt- lead guitar Steve Hofschied- drums
Scott Risner- mandolin Jerry Messner, Steve Feudner- harmony vocals
Rick Gustofson- bass Kevin Zimmermann- keyboards
Loretta
(Hawkins)
Oh Loretta you’ve got your mother’s eyes
Oh Loretta when you look at me it’s so surprisin’
To hear you’re leavin’ leavin’ me behind
When I think of all my love for you I can’t keep from cryin’
Oh Loretta did you just think of this today
Oh Loretta are you serious or are you playin’
With my frail emotions knowin’ how I feel for you
Do you really care about what you’re about to do
Oh Loretta remember in years gone by
Oh Loretta how I held you when you cried and how I
Tried to share your happiness I reached out in your pain
Will you walk out and turn your back on me and break my heart again
Oh Loretta we knew this day would come
Oh Loretta when you’d take off and start runnin’
Your mother and me love you so much
We won’t try to make you stay
Your time has come to be on the run
We won’t stand in your way
Oh Loretta…
©2005 J. David Hawkins
Mountainside Music Publishing, Nashville USA- BMI
Dave- guitar
Stan Ginn- drum
Scott Risner- mandolin
Holy Roller, Holy Man
(Hawkins)
At some point in your life
You're gonna answer for your sin, for your sin
At some point in your life
You're gonna answer for your sin, for your sin
That's when the fun is gonna begin
There's gonna be a point in time
When you're gonna own up to your crime, to your crime
Yeh, there's gonna be a point in time
When you're gonna own up to your crive, to your crime
I'm guessin' that, that'll be the end of time
Holy Roller, you ain't no Holy Man
Holy Roller, you ain't no Holy Man
Preacher preacher preacher
You'd better preach your sermon well, tell it well
Yeh, I'm tellin' you Mister Preacher
You'd better preach your sermon well, tell it well
Just keep right on preachin' on your road to hell
Holy Roller, you ain't no Holy Man
At some point in your life
You're gonna answer for your sin, for your sin
Yeh at some point in your life
You're gonna answer for your sin, for your sin
Holy Roller you ain't no Holy Man
Holy Roller you ain't no Holy Man..... you ain't no Holy Man... ain't no Holy man
©2010 J. David Hawkins
Mountainside Music Publishing, Nashville, USA-
BMI
Dave- guitar
Stan Ginn- percussion
Scott Risner- electric lead guitar
"Papa D" Hawk- Hammond B3 organ
Lorraine
(Stuart)
To all the thieves who stole the silver lining
Or even took the king's crown of gold
You can even go and shoot that messanger
But you can't kill a story once it's told... chorus
Lorraine, Lorraine I'd love to ease the pain
If we could just go back again Lorraine
To all the ones who long to climb that moutain
And look out on the valleys made of green
There'll be no more Beale Street blues up yonder
Where angels sing and glory can be seen... chorus
As for me I'm mourning with my brothers and sisters
We could help each other to get along
We could sit around in the confusion
Or take a stand and try to right a wrong.... chorus
©2008 Mark Stuart - Gearle Records
Dave- guitar
Stan Ginn- percussion
Scott Risner- mandolin
More Than Just a Name
(Hawkins)
Give me happy give me sad
Give me pointless give me mad
Just don’t give me silence to hold on to
Together this long thanks to you
Giving me songs to write it’s true
Don’t want the song to die how ‘bout you?
C/ Can we work this out Can we start over
Can we find the love that once burned like a flame
Can we share something more than just a name
One of us is right
We both know that I’m wrongTakin’ it out in fist to cuffs or takin’ it out in song
I don’t know about you
But I know what I want to do
I want to talk this out me and you right here and now C/
Take the happy with the bad
It’s the best we’ve ever had
This trip together’s just begun you know it’s true
I don’t want no one else
Without you I’m here by myself
I’ll take the love I get from you and save it on a shelf C/
©2004 Dave Hawkins
Mountainside Music Publishing, Nashville, USA - BMI
Dave- guitar
Stan Ginn- drums
Scott Risner- mandolin
Brenda Wolfersberger- upright bass
Brandt C.P. Smith- banjo
Elvis Presley Blues
(Welch/Rawlings)
I was thinking that night about Elvis
Day that he died, day that he died
I was thinking that night about Elvis
Day that he died, day that he died
Just a country boy that combed his hair
And put on a shirt his mother made and went on the air
And he shook it like a chorus girl
And he shook it like a Harlem queen
He shook it like a midnight rambler, baby,
Like you never seen
How he took it all out of black and white
Grabbed his wand in the other hand and he held on tight
And he shook it like a hurricane
He shook it like to make it break
And he shook it like a holy roller, baby
With his soul at stake
He was all alone in a long decline
Thinking how happy John Henry was that he fell down and died
When he shook it and he rang like silver
He shook it and he shine like gold
He shook it and he beat that steam drill, baby
Well bless my soul
He shook it and he beat that steam drill, baby
Well bless my soul, what's wrong with me?
Just a country boy that combed his hair
Put on a shirt his mother made and he went on the air
And he shook it like a chorus girl
He shook it like a Harlem queen
He shook it like a midnight rambler, baby
Like he never seen
©2001 Bug Music - Universal Music Publishing Group
Dave- guitar
Tracy Walker- backing vocals
Best That I Can
(Hawkins)
You were 12 years old when you thought that your daddy didn't love you
At 17 he caught you with your boyfriend in the back of a Ford
At 19 you ran off and you joined the circus
At 21 you told ev'rybody that you found the Lord
Are you lookin' for a boyfriend? Or do you want a real man?
I'm right here baby, I can do the best that I can
You never said you didn't love me, you never told me you did.
Are you lookin' for a full-grown man, or a grown-up kid?
There was a porn-shop across the highway from a Mobil station
Way too much information, I couldn't take anymore
A retired two-bit whore got out of a station wagon
She was cryin', "There just ain't no good men around here anymore!"
chorus
Sittin' at the end of the bar with a scotch and soda
You were hummin' John Denver tunes underneath your breath
All the old men nursin' their beers couldn't help but notice
They were thinkin' that dyin' in bed with you would be a hell of a death
chorus
©2009 J. David Hawkins
Mountainside Music Publishing, Nashville, USA - BMI
Dave-guitar
Jim Ohlschmidt- lead guitar
Ricky Nye- piano
Carl Weinberger- lead guitar
Rick Gustofson- bass
Steve Hofschied- keyboards
"Triple-play" (bonus trax) --
because after love, sex, and music.... 
BASEBALL is all that matters!!!!!!!
OPENING DAY!
(Hawkins)
I remember when Mickey Mantle became Rookie of the Year
That’s the baseball season Daddy let me taste my very first beer
When Babe Ruth pointed to the center field wall and whacked it to the moon
We were up so late just to celebrate we didn’t get out of bed till noon
Smack that ball over the right field fence
Remember when a hot dog was twenty-five cents
Everyone stand up and shout “Hooray!” for Opening Day
Grandpa called him “Pop-up Johnny” to me he was my hero Johnny Bench
I’d sit and listen to the Big Red Machine and know he’d come through in a pinch
There was the time Sandy Kofax faced Willie Stargell at the plate
"Pops" smacked that curve ball so damned hard it’s still orbiting out in space C/
When ol’ Charlie Hustle hit 4192
I can remember exactly where I was tell me how ‘bout you
When my kids ask about Hank Aaron and did I ever get to see him play
In my mind I see that famous home run like it was yesterday C/
It was head to head out of the home run gate Sosa and McGuire just couldn’t wait
To hear the roar of the crowd both home and away when they crossed the plate
Stick Bazooka Joe between your teeth and gum tap the bat to your heel plan your next home run
Back yard sand-lot organized ball you’re gonna touch ‘em all C/
When Doubleday hit that ball with a stick and wrote baseball rules on a loose leaf page
I wonder if he ever imagined how it’d look in our modern age
From the time I could walk I learned how to catch how to throw and get on base
Check out spring training statistics and count down to opening day C/
©2003 J.David Hawkins
Mountainside Music Publishing, Nashville, USA - BMI
Dave- guitar
Stan Ginn- percussion
Scott Risner- mandolin
The Two-Bit Hotdog TaB® & Apple Choir
Catfish
(Levy/Dylan)
Stadium Saturday night. Catfish on the mound
"Strike three!" the umpire cries. Batter gotta go sit down...
Catfish million dollar man
No one can throw a ball like Catfish can
He used to work on Mister Finley's farm. Old man he wouldn't pay.
Packed his glove and took his arm. And one day he just ran away...
He went up where the Yankees are. Wearin' a pin-striped suit.
Smoke Cuban made cigars. Wearin' alligator boots.
Reggie Jackson standin' at the plate. Seein' nothin' but a curve.
Swung too early, maybe swung too late. He gotta eat what Catfish serve....
Now even Billy Martin's gotta grin. When old "FIsh" is in the game.
Ev'ry season twenty wins. That boy's goin' to the Hall of Fame....
©1975 Ram's Horn Music
Dave- guitar
Stan Ginn- percussion
Brenda Wolfersberger- upright bass
Brandt C.P. Smith- dobro
Patrick McMahon- harmonica
Strass (No Hit Wonder)
(Hawkins)
A young draft pick from Florida
Brought up to Houston to pitch some ball
Scout was sure he was the next best thing
This kid’s got it all
They put him down in the minor league
Workin’ on his throws
The boy’s got an arm and little bit of charm
God knows how far he’ll go
[chorus]
No-hit wonder in single A ball
Got himself a plaque on a Hall of Fame wall
Strass on the mound batter goin’ down
Ain’t much else to say
All them hitters from the 80s
Haunted by that sinker to this day
Jose’ Conseco up at bat
Can give the best arm a hell-of-a-scare
Strass findin’ the corner of the plate
Jose’s hittin’ nothin’ but air
Facin’ batters like McGwire and Fielder
And Bo Jackson at the plate
Swingin’ at a sinker from Strasser
Ya know they’re swingin’ too late
[chorus]
It was a grave day for the Braves in Anderson
When Richard came into town.
27 batters up to the plate
27 batters sat down
All those years almost in the Big League
Can wear a good man to the bone
So Strass hung up his glove took his wife and kids
He just wanted to go home
[chorus]
©2010 J.David Hawkins
Mountainside Music Publishing, Nashville, USA - BMI
Dave- guitar
Stan Ginn- percussion
Scott Risner- mandolin
Elton Clifton- tuba
More thanks than could fit in the CD "booklet"-
These are just a few of the folks who have supported me on this journey throughout the years by believing in my music.
Brian Malloy, Tom and Beth, Pru and Jim, All my friends in The Ceilidh Group, Mr. Melfi at Melfi's Music Store (1965), Chuck Dailey (my 1st guitar teacher)
My kids, Nicole (and Kris), Kristin (and Dave), David (and Jenny) and Maura
Grandkids; Kaylee, Aubrey, Isabelle, Kennan, DJ and Dyani
So many musicians with whom I've worked and who have had a positive affect in my life;
Ian Anderson, Sam Bush, John Whelan, Peter Yarrow, John McCutcheon, Steve Eulberg, Michael Weston King, Tommy Sands
Dedication:
I dedicated this album to my Mom and my brother, Steve.
Mary Catherine O'Reilly-Hawkins was born in Columbus, Ohio May 3, 1923. She was the third of 6 children and the "youngest of the first bunch." After Mom my Grandma O'Reilly had no children for 9 years, (her older siblings were Joe and Helen), then came Bob, Eileen and my Godfather David. Along with her sister, Helen, Mom was sort of a "surrogate mother" to her younger siblings which helped prepare her for her role in life as a mother. Being the youngest of the "older kids" also helped her see what being "the baby" was like. I am the youngest of 4 boys and had the honor of being home alone with my Mom when I was a child. My next oldest brother; Mark, was 5 years older. Mom knew just how to keep me busy and feed my imaginiation.... thanks to her, I've always felt nurtured in my career as a songwriter. I had the honor of spending some alone time with her the day before she died in 2010. I thanked her for all she did to nurture the Aritst in me. I also thanked her for teaching me to tie my shoes! To this day, every morning when I tie my shoes I can hear her voice, "... and the rabbit runs around the tree and into the hole....." I love my Mom, and miss her TERRIBLY!
Rev. Monsignor Stephen B. Hawkins was born July 25, 1949. Although Steve was the second oldest of the 4 of us, he was always the guiding force in our family. His open mind and open heart led him into a life of service. His constant concern for his fellow Human Beings led him to work to forward Bobby Kennedy's presidential aspirations, read, and follow the example set by Dorothy Day, advocate for the less fortunate, and mentor his "baby brother" (ME!). We were golf buddies, and loved to "tag-team" in engaging our Dad in spirited discussions about his views of politcs, religion and various other topics. After the introduction of Email Steve and I would keep in touch on a weekly basis. I admit, I tear up whenever I hear a great rendition of "Amazing Grace" - in 1971 when Judy Collins released Whales and Nightengales, Steve came home and dragged me up to hear her version of this wonderful song on his portable stereo record player. in '71 he also bought tickets for he and I to see the touring productoin of "Jesus Christ, Superstar. Steve introduced me to "TOMMY" the Who, Bob Dylan and just about every music in between (especially, Peter Paul and Mary!). I DO miss him terribly and miss the special Brothers' bond that we had! I'm FOREVER indebted to him for sparking my drive towards Social Justice and PEACE!
I would also be remiss if I didn't thank the American Federation of Musicians, of which I am a proud member.
Local 1 The Cincinnati Musicians Association
Local 1 is one of the oldest Musicians Locals in the United States. This family of professional musicians graciously accepted this "old Folkie" into their fold in 2005.
Local 1000 - Traveling Musicians Union
Local 1000 was founded in 1993 by a small group of traveling musicians who saw a need for a Local for musicians who spend most of their time touring and don't have a local Local. It's grown to be one of the largest AFM Locals in the U.S. I've been a proud member of L1K since 1996, am a past member of the L1K Executive Board, helped organize numerous relief concerts around the U.S. and am currently chairman of Local 1000 Solidarity Committee. Thanks to the hard work and leadership of Local 1000 I, like many of my L1K brothers and sisters, can count on support while on the road and look forward to a pension when I can no longer tour and perform.
