I have “Western Swing & Other Things” to thank for this 1948 song. The show is a Saturday morning staple in rural Kansas, an anachronism of radio that shouldn’t exist anymore. Allen Bailey (Dodge City’s Marshall Allen Bailey, if you want to get technical) and Cowgirl Janey play the best cowboy music for three solid hours, along with a touch of Big Band and classic crooners. It’s probably not for everyone, but if I can convince a girl in Scotland to listen to it, then isn’t that endorsement enough?

This particular song by Carson Robison reminds me of Ken Burns’ Dust Bowl series, of David Carradine as Woody Guthrie in “Bound for Glory“, of every Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton miracle, of wind so strong you can only inch forward. Robison is Kansas through and through, resigned pessimism and all.

Life Gets Teejus, Don’t It

Sun comes up and the sun goes down.
The hands on the clock keep goin’ around.
I just get up an’ it’s time to lay down.
Life gets teejus, don’t it?

My shoe’s untied but I don’t really care.
I ain’t a-figurin’ on goin’ nowhere.
I’d have to wash an’ comb my hair.
That’s just wasted effort.

Water in the well’s gettin’ lower an’ lower.
Can’t take a bath for six months or more
But I’ve heard it said, and it’s true I’m sure,
That too much bathin’ll weaken’ you.

I open the door an’ the flies swarm in.
I shut the door an’ I’m sweatin’ again.
I move too fast an’ I crack my shin.
Just one durn thing after t’other.

My old brown mule, he must be sick.
I jabbed him in the rump with a pin on a stick.
He humped his back, but he wouldn’t kick.
There’s somethin’ cockeyed somewhere.

There’s a mouse a-chawin’ on the pantry door.
He’s been at it for at least a month or more.
When he gets through there he’s sure goin’ to be sore.
[Chuckles]  There ain’t a durn thing in there.

Hound dog howlin’, he’s so folorn.
Laziest dog that ever was born.
He’s howlin’ ’cause he’s a-sittin’ on a thorn —
Just too tired to move over.

Tin roof leaks an’ the chimney leans.
There’s a hole in the seat of my ol’ blue jeans.
An’ I’ve et the last of them pork an’ beans.
Jus’ can’t depend on nuthin’.

Cow’s gone dry an’ the hens won’t lay.
Fish quit bitin’ last Saturday.
Troubles pile up, day by day —
Now I’m gettin’ dandruff.

Grief an’ misery, pains an’ woes.
Debts an’ taxes, an’ so it goes.
And I think I’m gettin’ a cold in the nose …
A-choo! Ah, life gets tasteless, don’t it?