Lyrics Talking Columbia Blues - Jack Elliott

Talking Columbia Blues

I was down 'long the river, just setting on a rock
Looking at the boats in Bonneville Lock
And the gate swings open and the boat sails in
Toots her whistle, she’s gone a gin'!
Well, I fills up my hat brim, drunk a sweet taste
Thought about the river going to waste
Thought about the dust, thought 'bout the sand
Thought about the people, thought 'bout the land
Ever’body running round all over creation
Just looking for some kind of a little place
Pulled out my pencil, scribbled this song
I figured all these salmon fishers can’t be wrong
Them salmon fish, they’re mighty shrewd
They got senators, politicians, too!
Just like a President, they run ever' four years
Yes, them folks back east are doing a lot of talking
Some of them baulking and some of them squawking
But with all their fingering and all their books
Well, they just didn’t know them raw Chinooks
Salmon!
That’s a good river!
Just watch this river and pretty soon
Ever’body’s going to be changing their tune
The big Grand Coulee and Bonneville Dam
Run a thousand factories for Uncle Sam
An' ever’body else in the world
Making ever’thing from sewing machines to fertilizer
Atomic bedrooms… Plastic!
Everything’s going to be made out of plastic!
Yes, Uncle Sam needs wool, Uncle Sam needs wheat
Uncle Sam needs houses and stuff to eat
Uncle Sam needs water and power dams
Uncle Sam needs people and people needs land
Don’t like dictators not much, myself
But I think the whole country ought to be run
By electricity!