Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Apr 21, 2015 4:44:46 GMT -5
So here's a new one. I've been wanting to write a song about the influx of workers into North Dakota to work the Bakken oilfields for a few months. Just couldn't figure out what to say about it, though. So last week, one of the Arab cable channels showed a rerun of "Hotel Impossible" in which Anthony visited a rat-trap of a motel called the Missouri Flats in Williston, ND, Ground Zero for the oil boom.
It looked like a place most of us would avoid like the plague, but they charge exhorbitant rates because that's what the market will bear in a boomtown. Anyway, it gave me a bit of inspiration to to sit down and write. I may work on a couple of lines here and there, and any constructive criticism and insights are welcome.
WILLISTON © 2015 by David Hanners
Come up north, try to make a buck Life loaded in a pickup truck Nebraska soil no longer yields But they're printing money in these Bakken fields
Missouri Flats is my new home Room ain't cheap but I bunk alone Just a bed when day is done And that's life in Williston
Yeah, it's been awhile since I phoned Work is hard, days are long How are things in Valentine? Miss you and the kids all the time
We had plans and they were big Now I'm a floorman on a workover rig Muscles ache when day is done And that's life in Williston
Come Friday night the worms let go Blow their pay on booze and whores Half this town is on the run And that's life in Williston
Dakota winds make those guywires whine Lonely rattle old as time When I'm chilled to the bone Think of you and amber waves of home
Old guys here are just like me Talk of home and family It's for the money when day is done And that's life in Williston That's life in Williston That's my life in Williston
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Apr 23, 2015 3:04:07 GMT -5
Rewrote the song so that the protagonist is leaving more than just Nebraska. Maybe he's also leaving a girlfriend or wife.
I stuck the video in the MP3/Videos category, and while it appears people view them, nobody seems to comment.
WILLISTON © 2015 by David Hanners
Came north to make a buck Life loaded in a pickup truck Nebraska soil no longer yields But they're printing money in the Bakken fields
Missouri Flats, my new home Room ain't cheap but I bunk alone It's just a bed when day is done And that's life in Williston
Yeah, it's been awhile since I phoned They work us hard, they work us long How are things in Valentine? I know I left some stuff behind
We had plans and they were big Now I'm a floorman on a workover rig Tired as hell when day is done And that's life in Williston
Come Friday night the worms let go Blow their pay on booze and whores Half this town is on the run And that's life in Williston
Dakota winds make those guywires whine Lonely rattle old as time Cold slices to the bone Can't say when I'm coming home
Old guys here just like me Talk of home and family It's just the money when day is done And that's life in Williston That's life in Williston That's my life in Williston
|
|
|
Post by Lonnie on Apr 23, 2015 6:58:38 GMT -5
I don't think people look in here often, David. They probably go straight into the cafe. The only reason I saw it is because I came in through "recent threads" today, instead of my "cafe" bookmark.
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Apr 23, 2015 7:20:42 GMT -5
Indeed, that may be the case. Being in a songwriting wasteland over here, I was hoping some of the songwriters on the forum might chirp in with comments and critiques, which I've always welcomed when constructive.
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Apr 23, 2015 8:15:37 GMT -5
In retrospect, I don't think people care. This thread has been viewed 18 times, and my one before it here has been viewed 95 times, all without comment. Over in the MP3/video forum, my "Williston" thread has been viewed 16 times and nobody commented, and the "The Devil Lives in Taylorville" video thread has been viewed 45 times and nobody bothered to comment.
So people are looking and reading. They just don't care to say anything.
|
|
|
Post by Doug on Apr 23, 2015 12:05:19 GMT -5
I generally don't comment because I'm such a bad song writer. I envy your way with lyrics.
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Apr 23, 2015 12:33:34 GMT -5
I generally don't comment because I'm such a bad song writer. I envy your way with lyrics. Thanks for the kind words, Doug. You're not a bad songwriter, though. Just one that needs to exercise his songwriting muscles more often. (Like I should exercise all of my muscles more often....) That said, I think a guy like you -- an experienced performer -- still has A LOT to offer on a songwriting forum because you can approach songs from an interpretive standpoint. Is it something you would want to perform -- and if so, why, and if not, why not? I've often gone for songwriting advice to a friend of mine who has written a grand total of .5 of a song (I wrote the other half for him) but he is a great performer and knows what makes a song work or not work. So don't sell your contributions short, Doug. You have much to offer.
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on May 18, 2016 21:45:31 GMT -5
So here's the final version of "Williston." Since the last post, it has undergone major work. Each three-line half of the verse (and bridge) is 18 words, so each verse has 36 words. It was an exercise in mathematic songwriting.
WILLISTON © 2016 by David Hanners
Load my life in a pickup truck Head north to make a buck Nebraska dirt no longer yields Made floorman on a workover rig Hitch is long, paycheck's big They're printing money in these Bakken fields
Worms live on meth or caffeine I work with coiled springs Who only talk TV, sex and guns Weekends, they let go Blow their pay on booze and whores Half this town is on the run
Motel bed, a warm six-pack You ask when I'm coming back Late-night call across the plains Love burned like a wellhead flare Line goes still but I know you're there Spaces between words remain
Dakota winds, guywires whine A mournful rattle as old as time And cold as an old love's frown I'll give it six more months Load up my pickup truck And say to hell with this boomtown
|
|