John Stewart The Pirates Of Stone County Road
It's a summer afternoon, somewhere in Kansas or Illinois or Oklahoma. The wind is blowing the leaves down the gutter as the mailman comes by. "Afternoon Mrs. Higgins, hot enough for ya?" Over on Stone County Road there's the smell of chicken frying.
"Henry! It's getting t'wards suppertime you know. Henry!"
There she calls from her second floor room
The end of a back porch afternoon
Where we'd stand on the bow of our own man-of-war
No longer the back porch any more
And we'd sail pulling for China
The pirates of Stone County Road
All weathered and blown
And we'd sail ever in glory
'Till hungry and tired
The pirates of Stone County Road
Were turning for home
"Henry! You better be getting on up to bed now, don't ya know, Henry!"
There she calls from her high wicker chair
As I climb to my room up the stair
Where the wind through the shutters
Sends the mainsail to fall
From the shadow of the bedpost on the wall
And we'd sail pulling for China
The pirates of Stone County Road
Weathered and blown
And we'd sail ever in glory
'Till hungry and tired
The pirates of Stone County Road
Were turning for home
"Henry! Can you hear me, Henry. Are you up there Henry? Henry!"
