Monday Night Music: Bruce Hornsby, ‘Prairie Dog Town’
Here’s a great live performance of “Prairie Dog Town,” by Bruce Hornsby and the Noisemakers, from their latest album Levitate. Like all of Bruce’s recent work, this one goes in unexpected and musically intriguing directions — and the lyrics are a hoot. (Here it is at the iTunes Store.)
Poppin′ up, poppin′ down
Burrowing, making their funny little sounds
Guarding the ground and rooting all around
Watch your dry bones in the prairie dog townTeddy Roosevelt said come quick
There′s a phenomenon and I′m in the thick of it
Riding around the badlands range
They came upon those creatures so strange
They′re so small they couldn′t hurt you
Just like they said about Napoleon too
Oh so cute they′re sneaking around
Hiding the crimes ′round the Prairie Dog Town
They lay in wait ′neath the Dakota moon
For the chance to make you their next victim soonPoppin′ up, poppin′ down
Burrowing, making their funny little sounds
Guarding the ground and rooting all around
Watch your dry bones in the prairie dog townWent to a party at the Prairie Dog Town
Hills and holes and manicured grounds
Gaiety and chattering was in the air
While grinning teeth waited to bite you there
Small of mind better watch your back
Need rapid-moving eyes just to keep track
Behind the bush he makes the gut strings wail
You can′t judge a dog by the wag of its tailPoppin′ up, poppin′ down
Burrowing, making their funny little sounds
Guarding the ground and rooting all around
Watch your dry bones in the prairie dog townDon′t put your trust in a prairie dog
They′ll rob you back and steal your drawers
Stay in your car behind the glass
Or you might get some big sharp teeth in that assDisregard the great ethical truths
It′s the collective life of the herd for you
Closed society, no open door policy
Collectivist secretive ideology
Utilitarian
Sublimation of individual identities
Suppression of dissidents
Communal living country club victory
For him and her and she and hePoppin′ up, poppin′ down
Burrowing, making their funny little sounds
Guarding the ground and rooting all around
Watch your dry bones in the prairie dog townThe rose grows sick from the dark love of the worm
That finds its way to her crimson bed
And twists and turns
And burrows and burns
