THE BANKS OF THE OLD BLACK RIVER

by JIM

supported by
/
1.
03:13
2.
3.
4.
02:52
5.

about

Welcome to LOCUSTVILLE, where all the women are witches, all the men are bullies, and all the children are ugly.

Five "trailer-park gothic" story-songs set in the fictional South Carolina town of Locustville.

Recorded October, 2014 at Black Sneaker Souls Recording Studio in Greenville, SC.

credits

released October 31, 2014

Recorded by Max Price

James Wesley Nichols - songs, vocals, archtop, jazzmaster, telecaster, feedback, effects.
Max Price - drums, percussion, mandolin, guitar, bass, recording engineer.
Nick Brown - recording engineer.

tags

license

all rights reserved

feeds

feeds for this album, this artist

about

James Wesley Nichols Greenville, South Carolina

One weirdo shut-in's fantasy world...

All songs, voices, guitars, keyboards, drums, percussion, sequencing, tape and digital recording, artwork, design, packaging, and so on, by James Wesley Nichols, unless otherwise indicated.

contact / help

Contact James Wesley Nichols

Streaming and
Download help

Redeem code

Track Name: It Happened
What happened?
What happened, my son?
What happened in those Dark Woods?
You've come home to me in the dead of the night.
What happened in those Dark Woods?

I wandered;
I wandered those woods.
I wandered from dusk 'til dawn.
My hatchet in hand to gather kindling.
I wandered in those Dark Woods.

I saw her - sweet Gwen McBee;
I saw her in those Dark Woods.
Such a sweet, lovely girl with ribbons and curls.
I saw her in those Dark Woods.

What happened?
What happened my son?
What happened, my dear boy Seth?
You've come home to me smelling of death.
What happened, my dear boy Seth?

I chopped her;
I lopped her head off;
I cropped her in those Dark Woods.
Her sweet love I had; oh Ma, I been bad.
I chopped her head off in those Dark Woods.

It happened;
It happend, Ma.
It happened in those Dark Woods.
Now Jesus won't save my soul from the flames.
Wicked I been in those Dark Woods.
Track Name: Creature After Me
My lungs are burning; I can barely breathe.
My insides are churning; I can hardly see.
The sweat pours down into my eyes.
There's a razor clean gash running down my thigh.
Some kind of creature is after me,

It's following my blood trail through the powdered snow.
Its yellow eyes have not failed to track me with their glow.
Its nostrils spew out scalding steam.
Its greedy fang just boils and streams.
Some kind of creature is after me.
Track Name: It's a Good Day
There's a murder of crows in a lifeless live oak
as a frigid wind blows the smell of burning leaf smoke.
It's a good, good day.
The sky looks just like a bruise; there ain't a sunbeam in sight
and you have nothing to lose. The icy glare is so bright.
It's a good good day to be alive.

In the snow-covered woods, the wolves are hot on your heels.
You wish that everyone could feel just what you now feel.
It's a good, good day.
There's a body afloat in the river so red
bleeding from a torn throat, there is no doubt she is dead.
It's a good good day to be alive.

Everything is right in your mind.
Eveything's alright in your mind.

If you never get sick, how will you know when you're well?
How will you know you're in heaven if you ain't been to hell?
It's a good, good day.
If you never break down, it's hard to build yourself up.
If you never get out, how will you ever find love?
It's a good, good day to be alive.
Track Name: The Wolves
In the woods, where the wolves live
they bit and pierced me like a sieve.
They tore the limbs off of my trunk
and scattered them all out like junk.
Those wolves.
Those cruel wolves.

Some bones were broken, some were scattered.
Wine-dark blood was spilled and spattered.
Entrails trailed the well-worn paths as
the wolves wallowed in a gory bath.
Those wolves.
Those evil wolves.

The river lies near a town that
is red mud stained and gray and brown.
The Baptists and the snake handlers
all speak in tongues and rave and curse
those wolves.
Those evil wolves.
Those cruel wolves.
Those goddamn wolves.
Track Name: Drag the River
Sheriff John McBee - where can your daughter be?
We last saw her beneath the chinaberry tree
by the banks of the Old Black River at a quarter past three.
So sheriff please drag, drag, drag that river.
Drag, drag, drag, drag that river deep.

Where, oh, where, oh where has my handsome husband gone?
I fear some foul deed; I fear some dreadful wrong.
For he has been away far too long.
So sheriff please drag, drag, drag that river.
Drag, drag, drag, drag that river deep.

Where, oh where, oh where can your precious loved ones be?
In my gut now they lie beneath waters cold and deep.
For I am the river, and on souls I feed.
So sheriff please drag, drag, drag that river.
Drag, drag, drag, drag that river deep.