Henry's Songbook

I started on a journey about a year ago
To a little town called Morrow, I was going from Glasgow
I'd never been much of a traveller, so I really didn't know
That Morrow was the hardest place I would ever try to go

I went down to the station, laid my money on the desk
Not thinking to cause trouble with my innocent request
I said, My friend, I'd like to go to Morrow and return
No later than tomorrow, 'cause I haven't time to burn

Said he to me, Now let me see, if I have heard you right
You want to go to Morrow and return tomorrow night
You should have gone to Morrow yesterday and back today
Because the train today to Morrow is a mile upon its way

If you had gone to Morrow yesterday, now don't you see
You could have gone to Morrow and been back today at three
Because the train today to Morrow, if the timetable is right
Today it goes to Morrow and returns tomorrow night

I said, My friend, you're kidding me, you're talking through your hat
There is a town called Morrow on the line, now tell me that
There is, said he, But take from me a quiet little tip
To go from here to Morrow is a fourteen hour trip

I said, I want to go to Morrow, can't I go today
And get to Morrow by tonight if there is no delay
He said, My friend, I've just got one more thing I'd like to say
You've talked so long the trains are gone, in town you'll have to stay

(as sung by Iain MacKintosh)

[1957:] This delightful piece of tongue twisting dialogue in song is probably the creation of some anonymous undergraduate at one of America's great college campuses, a perennial hotbed for folksongs and pseudo-folksongs, and the source of a new and vital oral tradition. Gibson learned it from Bob Black of the University of Indiana. (Kenneth Goldstein, notes Bob Gibson, 'I Come For To Sing')

[c.1978:] I kinda half wrote this one. I had to go to a concert some time ago now. My car was broken, so I had to go by train to this place, a very small town called Morrow. So I went to the station in Glasgow and I said to the man, 'I'd like to go to Morrow'. And he gave me a kind of funny look, and he said, 'When do you want to come back?' - Well, this is what happened, anyway. (Intro Iain MacKintosh T 12)

[1992:] American version: TO MORROW
I started on a journey, about a year ago
To a little town called Morrow in the state of Ohio
I've never been much of a traveller, so I really didn't know
That Morrow was the hardest place I'd ever try to go
I went down to the station for my ticket and applied
For tips regarding Morrow, not expecting to be guyed (= fooled)
Said he to me, Now let me see if I have heard you right
You'd like to go to Morrow and return tomorrow night
You should have gone to Morrow yesterday and back today
For the train today to Morrow is a mile upon its way....
If you had gone to Morrow yesterday now don't you see
You could have gone to Morrow and returned today at three
For the train today to Morrow if the schedule is right
Today it goes to Morrow and returns tomorrow night
I was so disappointed I was mad enough to swear
The train had gone to Morrow and it left me standing there
The man was right in tellin' me that I was howlin' jay
I could not go to Morrow, so I guess in town I'll stay
(ASK, UWP Archive, www.leo.org/)

[1998:] Bob Gibson was one of those folks who influenced folks around Chicago so very much. Since the 1950s he was a larger than life character. Especially in those early days, when he did mostly traditional songs, he was a great folksinger. We'd wait for new Gibson albums and quickly learn every song on them. Somewhere along the way Bob developed a terrible rare disease of the nervous system (progressive supranuclear palsy) and in the 1990s he, of necessity, went to live with his daughter in Portland, Oregon. In mid-August of 1996 many of us received a letter from Bob:

"As my health has declined, I find that I may miss the music most of all. I miss making music and being around others who have music in their blood. So I'm going to have a party and invite everyone to bring their voices, instruments and songs. Please come to the Sheraton North Shore on Friday, September 20th, 1996. This may be the last chance I have to see many of you. I won't be able to play and sing with you, but I'm really looking forward to being an audience of one!"

After that came several phone calls from Bob---terribly sad phone calls---I could barely understand him...

The party was a great one. Many folks from the old days were there. We sang for Bob well past midnight...

After flying back to Portland with his electric wheelchair and his full-time caregiver, Bob Gibson died in his sleep exactly one week after he held his own wake! A pretty classy way to go. (Notes Art Thieme, 'The Older I Get, The Better I Was')