Calico Kahlia, come tell me the news
Calamity's waiting for a way to get to her
Rosy red and electric blue
I bought you a paddle for your paper canoe

Say you'll come back when you can
Whenever your airplane happens to land
Maybe I'll be back here, too
It all depends on what's with you

Hung up waiting for a windy day
Kite on ice since the first of February
Mamma Bee saying that the wind might blow
But standing here I say I just don't know

Calliope wail like a seaside zoo
The very last lately inquired about you
It's really very one or two
The first you wanted, the last I knew

I just wonder if you shouldn't feel
less concerned about the deep unreal
The very first word is: How do you do?
The last: Go home, your mama's calling you

Go on home 
Your mama's calling you
Calling you. . . .

Arrows of neon and flashing marquees out on Main Street
Chicago, New York, Detroit, it's all on the same street
Your typical city involved in a typical daydream
Hang it up and see what tommorrow brings

Dallas -- got a soft machine
Houston -- too close to New Orleans
New York -- got the ways and means
but just won't let you be 

Most of the cats that you meet on the street speak of True Love
Most of the time they're sittin' and cryin' at home
One of these days they know they gotta get goin'
out of the door and down to the street all alone

Truckin' -- like the doodah man
once told me you got to play your hand
sometime -- the cards ain't worth a dime
if you don't lay 'em down

Sometimes the light's all shining on me
Other times I can barely see
Lately it occurs to me
What a long strange trip it's been

What in the world ever became of sweet Jane?
She lost her sparkle, you know she isn't the same
Living on reds, vitamin C, and cocaine
all a friend can say is "Ain't it a shame"

Sitting and staring out of a hotel window
Got a tip they're gonna kick the door in again
I'd like to get some sleep before I travel
but if you got a warrant I guess you're gonna come in

Busted -- down on Bourbon Street
Set up -- like a bowling pin
Knocked down -- it gets to wearing thin
They just won't let you be 

You're sick of hanging around and you'd like to travel
Tired of travel, you want to settle down
I guess they can't revoke your soul for trying
Get out of the door -- light out and look all around

Sometimes the light's all shining on me
Other times I can barely see
Lately it occurs to me
what a long strange trip it's been

Truckin' -- I'm goin' home
Whoa-oh, baby, back where I belong
Back home -- sit down and patch my bones
and get back Truckin' on

Just then the wind 
came squalling through the door
but who can 
the weather command?
Just want to have 
a little peace to die
and a friend or two 
I love at hand

Fever roll up to a hundred and five
Roll on up 
gonna roll back down
One more day 
I find myself alive
tomorrow 
maybe go 
beneath the ground

See here how everything 
lead up to this day
and it's just like 
any other day 
that's ever been
Sun goin' up 
and then the 
sun it goin' down
Shine thru my window and 
my friends they come around
come around 
come around

Run and see 
hey, hey, 
run and see

"I wrote this as a brisk piece like Kershaw's 'Louisiana Man.' Garcia took it seriously, though, dressing it in subtle changes and a mournful tempo. 
"The bridge verse-- 'See here how everything lead up to this day....' --was written after the restructuring of the piece and reflects the additional depth of possibility provided for the song by his treatment." --Robert Hunter

It's a hand-me-down 
The thoughts are broken
Perhaps they're better 
left unsung
I don't know 
Don't really care
Let there be songs 
to fill the air

Ripple in still water
when there is no pebble tossed
nor wind to blow

Reach out your hand 
if your cup be empty
If your cup is full 
may it be again

There is a road 
no simple highway
between the dawn 
and the dark of night
And if you go 
no one may follow
That path is for 
your steps alone

Ripple in still water
when there is no pebble tossed
nor wind to blow

You who choose 
to lead must follow
but if you fall 
you fall alone
If you should stand 
then who's to guide you?
If I knew the way 
I would take you home

Baby, baby, tell me what's the matter
Why, why tell me, what's your why now?
Tell me why will you never come home?
Tell me what's your reason if you've got a good one

Everywhere I go
The people all know
Everyone's doin' that rag

Take my line, go fishin' for a Tuesday
Maybe take my supper, eat it down by the sea
Gave my baby twenty, forty good reasons
Couldn't find any better ones in the morning at three

The rain gonna come but the rain gonna go, you know
Stepping off sharply from the rank and file
Awful cold and dark like a dungeon
Maybe get a little bit darker 'fore the day

Hipsters, tripsters
real cool chicks, sir,
everyone's doin' that rag

Don't neglect to pick up what your share is
All the winter birds are winging home now
Hey, Love, go and look around you
Nothing out there you haven't seen before now

But you can wade in the water
and never get wet
if you keep on doin' that rag

One-eyed jacks and the deuces are wild
And the aces are crawling up and down your sleeve
Come back here, Baby Louise,
and tell me the name
of the game that you play

Is it all fall down?
Is it all go under?
Is it all fall down, down, down
Is it all go under?

Everywhere I go
the people all know
everybody's doin' that rag

* Peter Grant heard this line as:
"Old like a nun drinking demon bad tea."

Reason tatters
the forces tear loose
from the axis

Searchlight casting
for faults in the clouds
of delusion

Shall we go,
you and I 
while we can?
Through
the transitive nightfall
of diamonds

Mirror shatters
in formless reflections
of matter

Glass hand dissolving
to ice-petal flowers
revolving

Shall we go,
you and I
while we can?
Through
the transitive nightfall
of diamonds

spinning a set the stars through which the tattered tales
of axis roll
about the waxen wind of never set to motion in the
unbecoming
round about the reason hardly matters nor the wise
through which
the stars were set in spin

"Though they arranged 'Alligator', 'China Cat Sunflower', and 'Saint Stephen' to lyrics I mailed Garcia from New Mexico, this is the first lyric I wrote with the Grateful Dead." - Robert Hunter

The wheels are muddy
Got a ton of hay
Now listen here, baby
'cause I mean what I say
I'm having a hard time
living the good life
Well, I know

I was losing time
I had nothing to do
No one to fight
I came to you
Wheels broke down
The leader won't draw
The line is busted
the last one I saw

Nothing's for certain
It could always go wrong
Come in when it's raining
Go on out when it's gone
We could have us a high time
living the good life
Well, I know 

Spent a little time on the mountain
Spent a little time on the hill
Heard some say: Better run away
Others say: You better stand still

Now I don't know but I been told
it's hard to run with the weight of gold
Other hand I heard it said
it's just as hard with the weight of lead

Who can deny? Who can deny?
it's not just a change in style
One step done and another begun
and I wonder how many miles?

Spent a little time on the mountain
Spent a little time on the hill
Things went down we don't understand
but I think in time we will

Now I don't know but I been told
in the heat of the sun a man died cold
Do we keep on coming or stand and wait
With the sun so dark ad the hour so late?

Spent a little time on the mountain
Spent a little time on the hill
I saw things getting out of hand
I guess they always will

I don't know, but I been told
if the horse don't pull you got to carry the load
I don't know whose back's that strong
Maybe find out before too long

One way or another
One way or another 
One way or another 
this darkness got to give
One way or another
One way or another 
One way or another 
this darkness got to give

"Written as a reply to an indictment of the Altamont affair by pioneer rock critic Ralph J. Gleason." - Robert Hunter

Stephen prospered in his time
Well he may and he may decline
Did it matter? Does it now?
Stephen would answer if he only knew how

Wishing well with a golden bell
Bucket hanging clear to Hell
Hell halfway 'twixt now and then
Stephen fill it up and lower down 
and lower down again

Ladyfinger dipped in moonlight
Writing "What for?" across the morning sky
Sunlight splatters dawn with answers
Darkness shrugs and bids the day good-bye

Speeding arrow, sharp and narrow
What a lot of fleeting matters you have spurned
Several seasons with their treasons
Wrap the babe in scarlet covers, call it your own

Did he doubt or did he try?
Answers aplenty in the bye and bye
Talk about your plenty, talk about your ills
One man gathers what another man spills

Fortune comes acrawling, Calliope woman
Spinning that curious sense of your own
Can you answer? Yes I can
But what would be the answer to the answer man?

High green chilly winds and windy vines in loops around the 
twisted shafts of lavender, they're crawling to the sun

Underfoot the ground is patched with climbing arms of ivy 
wrapped around the manzanita, stark and shiny in the breeze

Wonder who will water all the children of the garden when they 
sigh about the barren lack of rain and droop so hungry 'neath the sky. . . .

William Tell has stretched his bow till it won't stretch no
furthermore and/or it may require a change that hasn't come before

Keep a-rolling
Just a mile to go
Keep on rolling, my old buddy
You're moving much too slow

I just jumped the watchman
Right outside the fence
Took his rings, four bucks in change
Now ain't that heaven-sent?

Hurts my ears to listen, Shannon
Burns my eyes to see
Cut down a man in cold blood, Shannon
Might as well be me

We used to play for silver
Now we play for life
One's for sport and one's for blood 
At the point of a knife
Now the die is shaken
Now the die must fall
There ain't a winner in this game
Who don't go home with all
Not with all . . .

Leaving Texas
Fourth day of July
Sun so hot, clouds so low
The eagles filled the sky

Gotta get to Tulsa
First train we can ride
Got to settle one old score
And one small point of pride

There ain't a place a man can hide, Shannon
Keep him from the sun
Ain't no bed will give us rest, man, 
You keep us on the run

Jack Straw from Wichita 
cut his buddy down
Dug for him a shallow grave 
And laid his body down

Half a mile from Tucson
By the morning light
One man gone and another to go
My old buddy, you're moving much too slow

We can share the women
We can share the wine . . .

Rich man step on my poor head
When you get up you better butter my bread
Well, you know it's like I said
You better head back to Tennessee, Jed

Tennessee Tennessee 
There ain't no place I'd rather be
Baby, won't you carry me 
Back to Tennessee

Drink all day and rock all night
Law come to get you if you don't walk right
Got a letter this morning and all it read:
You better head back to Tennessee, Jed

I dropped four flights and cracked my spine
Honey, come quick with the iodine
Catch a few winks down under the bed
Then head back to Tennessee, Jed

I ran into Charlie Phogg
He blacked my eye and he kicked my dog
My dog he turned to me and he said:
Let's head back to Tennessee, Jed

I woke up a feeling mean
Went down to play the slot machine
The wheels turned around and the letters read:
Better head back to Tennessee, Jed

Tennessee Tennessee 
There ain't no place I'd rather be
Baby, won't you carry me 
Back to Tennessee

"'Tennessee Jed' originated in Barcelona, Spain. Topped up on vino tinto, I composed it aloud to the sound of a jaw harp twanged bewteen echoing building faces by someone strolling half a block ahead of me in the late summer twilight." - Robert Hunter

I gotta get down
I gotta get down
Got to get down to the mine

You keep me up just one more night
I can't sleep here no more
Little Ben clock says quarter to eight
You kept me up till four

I gotta get down
I gotta get down
Or I can't work there no more

Lotta poor man make a five-dollar bill
Keep him happy all the time
Some other fellow making nothing at all
And you can hear him cryin' . . .

"Can I go, buddy
can I go down
Take your shift at the mine?"

Lotta poor man got the Cumberland Blues
He can't win for losin'
Lotta poor man got to walk the line
Just to pay his union dues.

I don't know now
I just don't know
If I'm goin' back again
I don't know now
I just don't know
If I'm goin' back again

"The best compliment I ever had on a lyric was from an old guy who'd worked at the Cumberland mine. He said, 'I wonder what the guy who wrote this song would've thought if he'd ever known something like the Grateful Dead was gonna do it'." -- Robert Hunter

Say it once again now
Oh, I hope you understand
When it's done and over
Lord, a man is just a man

Playing
Playing in the band
Daybreak
Daybreak on the land

Some folks look for answers
Others look for fights
Some folks up in treetops
Just look to see the sights

I can tell your future
Look what's in your hand
But I can't stop for nothing
I'm just playing in the band

Standing on a tower
World at my command
You just keep a-turning
While I'm playing in the band

If a man among you
Got no sin upon his hand
Let him cast a stone at me
For playing in the band

Playing
Playing in the band
Daybreak
Daybreak on the land
Playing
Playing in the band
Daybreak
Daybreak on the land

Brown-eyed women and red grenadine
the bottle was dusty but the liquor was clean
Sound of the thunder with the rain pouring down
And it looks like the old man's getting on

In 1920 when he stepped to the bar
he drank to the dregs of the whiskey jar
In 1930 when the Wall caved in
he paid his way selling red-eye gin

Brown-eyed women and red grenadine
the bottle was dusty but the liquor was clean
Sound of the thunder with the rain pouring down
And it looks like the old man's getting on

Delilah Jones was the mother of twins
two times over and the rest was sins
Raised eight boys, only I turned bad
Didn't get the lickings that the other ones had

Tumbledown shack in Bigfoot County
Snowed so hard that the roof caved in
Delilah Jones went to meet her God
and the old man never was the same again

Brown-eyed women and red grenadine
the bottle was dusty but the liquor was clean
Sound of the thunder with the rain pouring down
And it looks like the old man's getting on

Daddy made whiskey and he made it well
Cost two dollars and it burned like hell
I cut hick'ry just to fire the still
Drink down a bottle and you're ready to kill

Brown-eyed women and red grenadine
the bottle was dusty but the liquor was clean
Sound of the thunder with the rain pouring down
And it looks like the old man's getting on

Did you say your name was 
Ramblin Rose?
Ramble on, baby 
Settle down easy
Ramble on, Rose

Just like Jack and Jill 
Mama told the sailor
One heat up and one cool down
Leave nothing for the tailor
Just like Jack and Jill 
My Poppa told the jailer
One go up and one go down 
Do yourself a favor

Did you say your name was 
Ramblin Rose?
Ramble on, baby 
Settle down easy
Ramble on, Rose

I'm gonna sing you a hundred verses in ragtime
I know this song it ain't never gonna end
I'm gonna march you up and down the local county line
Take you to the leader of the band

Did you say your name was 
Ramblin Rose?
Ramble on, baby 
Settle down easy
Ramble on, Rose

Good-bye, Mama and Papa
Good-bye, Jack and Jill
The grass ain't greener, the wine ain't sweeter
either side of the hill

Did you say your name was 
Ramblin Rose?
Ramble on, baby 
Settle down easy
Ramble on, Rose