The Real Country, No. 4

Sep 3rd, 2010 in Music

Kris Kristofferson has written and performed some of the great songs of the American songbook.  He is the Pendleton Poet; one of the best song wordsmiths to ever grace us.  Sometimes those summa cum laude’s from Pomona College and Rhodes Scholarships pay off.  His bio is dense, including a plethora of films, loves and laurels.  But for us the riches are in his songs, which have been performed by magicians (Cash, Joplin, Nelson) and regularly gripped the best sellers lists when there was merit in th0se lists.  His great song, Sunday Morning Coming Down, is amongst our all-time faves and has been covered by many of the greats.  We prefer the songwriter’s version below.

With economy, Kristofferson deftly conveys both the large and the small losses.  One of the best.

“Well I woke up Sunday morning
with no way to hold my head
that didn’t hurt.
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn’t bad
so I had one more for dessert.
Then I fumbled through my closet for my clothes and found my cleanest dirty shirt.
And I shaved my face and combed my hair and
stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.

I’d smoked my brain the night before on
cigarettes and songs that I’d been picking.
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
cussing at a can that he was kicking.
Then I crossed the empty street and caught the Sunday smell of someone frying chicken.
And it took me back to something
that I’d lost somehow
somewhere along the way.

On this Sunday morning sidewalk,
wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
‘Cause there’s something in a Sunday,
makes a body feel alone.
And there’s nothing short of dying,
half as lonesome as the sound,
on the sleeping city sidewalks,
Sunday morning coming down.

In the park I saw a daddy
with a laughing little girl who he was swinging.
And I stopped beside a Sunday school and listened to a song that they was singing.
Then I headed back for home and somewhere far away
a lonely bell was ringing.
And it echoed through the canyons
like the disappearing dreams of yesterday.

On this Sunday morning sidewalk,
wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
‘Cause there’s something in a Sunday,
makes a body feel alone.
And there’s nothing short of dying,
half as lonesome as the sound,
on the sleeping city sidewalks,
Sunday morning coming down.”

Kris Kristofferson–Sunday Morning Coming Down

[audio:https://www.thelefortreport.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/1-01-Sunday-Mornin-Comin-Down.mp3|titles=1-01 Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down]

And for good measure, here are a couple of alternative takes by a couple of unknowns.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E824r7KrVPw

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