Born under a full moon, sixty phases past, on the banks of the Buffalo River somewhere in the Arkansas Ozarks during the aftermath of a banjo duel, Johnny later went on to emerge as one of the foremost interpreters of obscure bird calls in the United States. The youngest and most wayward son of a third generation Buffalo river guide and a Mama that tried, ol' Arkie Clarkie has sown his seeds, spun his stories (mostly lies) & sung his songs across a narrow swath of this great land ... and into the hearts of those of us who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time & were unfortunate enough to cross paths with him. A friend to the end, despite the miles between us (and Gawd knows most of us try to keep our distance from him, bless his lil' ol' hillbilly heart) ~ Johnny, I just gotta say (no really, I gotta say this ~ NoBob paid me to) ... we all love you, and wish you 60 more years of plankslappin', toe-tappin' fun. Keep yer shiny side up, podnah ... and don't never let yer deal go down!
~~~**~~~**~~~
Jimmy Driftwood ~ Battle Of New Orleans
.jpg)
No comments:
Post a Comment