Prairie Dog Town

Bruce HornsbyBruce Hornsby 

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Bruce Hornsby

Bruce Randall Hornsby (born November 23, 1954) is an American singer, pianist, accordion player, and songwriter. Known for the spontaneity and creativity of his live performances, Hornsby draws frequently from classical, jazz, bluegrass, folk, Motown, rock, blues, and jam band musical traditions with his songwriting and the seamless improvisations contained within. more »

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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 town

Teddy 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 soon
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 town

Went 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 it's tail

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 town

Don'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 ass

Disregard 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 he
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 town

The rose grows sick from the
Dark love of the worm
That finds it's way to her crimson bed
And twists and turns and burrows and burns

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