written, arranged, produced by Miriam Allen
Miriam Allen - violin, vocals, guitar, spoons
Well I drove in circles all night long, listening to this John Hartford song, that I never would have heard if it weren't for Adele, who sold me a record she didn't want to sell. But her sweet old landlady had to kick her out even though she didn't want to sell that house. But her husband had left her without a word, for a young boy from the Free Will Baptist church, who never would have gone to that church in the first place if it weren't for the guy who had asked him to translate for a group of hard working Mexican laborers who were trying to eradicate a bunch a sorry no good Mexican haters. Who never would have crossed the Rio Bravo if it weren't for their Tio Antonio Carlo who invented a steam powered aereo plane that was quiet and small and so it could go unseen. But he never would have thought to be an inventor if it weren't for his high school sweet heart and mentor. Who gave him a book about space aeronautics that she found in the market in Puerta Vallarta, that she bought from a man who had worked at that stand for the last forty years since he met Don Roman. Who sold him an ox cart full of collections of books and coins and jarocho records, that got from his friend an indigenous priest, who was inspired at a clerical feast by a tuba player who was an enigma because he had played with Pancho Villa. Who played trumpet in a band with a regular gig in a bar that paid in beer and tips, till Pancho he got mad one day with the club owner and he smacked him in the face. And so it started the whole revolution, where fighting became the only solution. And he never would have learned to shoot if it weren't for the games in the little feria booths, but Pancho he always won first place, with a trumpet and a pistol and an eye for an ace.