honky​/​tinker

by Jared Klok

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credits

released April 19, 2013

All songs except John Geer's Two Step written by Jared Klok
Co-produced by Jared Klok and Jake Nicoll
Recorded and mixed by Jake Nicoll
Mastered by J. Lapointe at Archive Mastering

Much credit and gratefulness to the friends and musicians who contributed to the recordings. Appearing on the album:

Jared Klok: vocals, acoustic/electric guitar, percussion
Jake Nicoll: percussion, drum kit, piano, synth, vocals, autoharp, bass
Billy Nicoll: cello, banjo, vocals
Sherry Ryan: vocals
Darren Browne: lead guitar, mandolin, lap steel
Katie Baggs: fiddle, vocals
Alison Corbett: fiddle, vocals
Joanna Barker: vocals
Lisa Wilson: vocals, percussion

contact: jared.klok@gmail.com




May your house be safe from tigers.

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Track Name: A Little Bit Broke
A Little Bit Broke


Everything I buy comes a little bit broke
Shy a few bits, why it’s short a few bolts
And it gets hard to see straight on account of all the smoke

Lord, it’s a long-shot but I’m full of hope

We had another fight, we had another bout
She started overheatin’ and I was trying not to shout
I was sure that it was over but then the gas ran out

What’s a believer but a man known to doubt?

I get so tired of gettin’ the gears
Won’t you pass me the pliers and cover up your ears
While I pull it apart just to see what’s in the middle
But it’s old, baby, old, and it’s all just too little

Short of walkin’ away, I might just set it on fire
I could chalk it all up to the shorts in the wires
Now where in the world did I put down those pliers?

We got around to talking breaks but all I heard was “Alternate-her!”
It may have been I mentioned how she tuned her carburetor
Well then she really blew a fuse--the radio and the radiator

But when she bade a “Fare thee well!” I said, “I’ll probably see you later.”

I get so tired of gettin’ the gears
Won’t you pass me the pliers and cover up your ears
While I pull it apart just to see what’s in the middle
But it’s old, baby, old, and it’s all just too little

Short of walkin’ away, I might just set it on fire
I could chalk it all up to the shorts in the wires
Now where in the world did I put down those pliers?

Everyone I know is just a little bit busted
Full of potential or potentially rusted
Sure you might be outta sorts, you might just be a little maladjusted

But if you turn that old screw there’s a chance you won’t trust it

I get so tired of gettin’ the gears
Won’t you pass me the pliers and cover up your ears
While I pull it apart just to see what’s in the middle
But it’s old, baby, old, and it’s all just too little

Short of walkin’ away, I might just set it on fire
I could chalk it all up to the shorts in the wires
Now where in the world did I put down those pliers?
Track Name: La Poderosa, Mi Moto
La Poderosa, Mi Moto


I’ve been wondering about you, are you well
Have the causeways caused you grief enough
And do you find that time has made you tough
Or soft

I caught the faintest trace of mischief down your back
And where you swivelled at your spinal cord
I ran my hand up past the motherboard
And pressed

If you fall I’ll be right there flat on my back
And if you call I’ll come a runnin’, saddle ‘n tack

As the months that have no “R’s” would make no haste
You sat in wait so old and clean
With the edges of a daisy dream
At bay

Where I squeezed you turned and shivered at the taste
Of what you knew would make you whole again
Should a measured dose of oxygen
Give chase

If you fall I’ll be right there flat on my back
And if you call I’ll come a runnin’, saddle ‘n tack

I’m sending letters, for good measure, where you wait
They read, “I’ll meet you where the air is thin
And we’re bound to turn around again
And stay.”

This time we’ll lead a life that’s simple, on the run
With a wake of lonesome shadow reels
And a sound we’re stretching desperately
To feel

If fall I’ll be right there flat on my back
And if you call I’ll come a runnin’, saddle ‘n tack
Track Name: Favourite Colours
Favourite Colours


Those two colours settin’ yonder
Are my favourite ones of all
Where the sky divides its favours
On the fallow of the fall
And they set on ‘til December
‘Til there’s no colour left but Cold
And it just waits from top to bottom
To remind us of how we’re old

April comes a lady
Wearing only matted grass
Standing out beneath the arch
That swallows pieces of the past
And Summer’s thunder laden columns
Stretch to take up all the sky
But that line of wheat below ‘em
Keeps those colours in my eye

I tried to put this to a young’un
I set to lay these wonders down
But he said, “That ain’t no magic.
That’s just blue, and that there’s brown.”
Now I remember my own folly
When I would name the tings I met
When I was young I too held brown and blue
As the colours yonder set

Comes a time the mind comes empty
And just can’t help but to forget
All the words for all the pretty things
And the tales of how we met
So when I wake up and greet the morning
I clear my head of every name
I look out across the prairies
And meet those colours new again
Track Name: Shootin' the Breeze
Shootin’ the Breeze


Whoodlin’, doodlin’, deedlin’, duck
First I come free and then I got plumb stuck
Oh, what I wouldn’t do for a pickup truck
And a little bit of company

With my face in the dirt and my feet in the sky
I could have sworn that I owned me a piece of the pie
But a piece of the picture got caught in my eye
And the rest is just a history

Whoodlin’, doodlin’, deedlin’, deee
I’m gonna climb to the top of some fine-feathered tree
I’m gonna fill up my boots for to follow my feet
I’ll walk around like a moose just a shootin’ the breeze

I knew a man who would whistle when he blew through his nose
I saw a dog fight a thistle but you know how that goes
Like an army of ants running over your toes
Making tiny, itchy colonies

I was told to make friends with a two-by-four
So I framed up a window and I framed up a door
But when I got people over they all fell through the floor
And so I’m back to being lone-a-ly

Whoodlin’ duck, wheedlin’ deee
I’ve been a lord of the flies and a slave to the fleas
I scraped most of the skin off of both of my knees
I made a meal of a pickle in a real tight squeeze

Whoodlin’, doodlin’, deedlin’, deee
I’m gonna climb to the top of some fine-feathered tree
I’m gonna fill up my boots for to follow my feet
I’ll walk around like a moose just a shootin’ the breeze
Track Name: Scrape on By
Scrape on By


I wanna scrape on by
Oh let me scrape on by
I don't want a big bite
Just a part of the piece of the pie

You know I creak and I moan
I duly creak and I moan
And I would love to call you honey
But I can't afford a telephone

And these are trying times
I try and try all the time
To go on peddling my wares but I get scared
'Cause these are trying times

See, I could sell my things
I could sell all my things
And put my needs upon my back
To thumb around just like the hobo kings

But it's the same in the end
To be of means, or to spend
To let it tumble from the top, or drink the dregs
We're just the holes that we mend

Still, we can dance for free
Come on and dance with me
We'll go on shuffling our feet out in the street
‘Cuz we can dance for free

I wanna scrape on by
Oh let me scrape on by
I don't want a big bite
Just a part of the piece of the pie
Track Name: Lay of the Land
Lay of the Land


I keep wandering about the lay of the land
Wondering about the hills and the rivers in a man
If I'm made up of sky
And the clouds bear my sins
Would it be fair to ponder
How the plains share my skin

Your eyes hold your sadness like tractors wear rust
And if I'm reading you right you're about set to bust
As that slow inching sorrow gets ready to set
I'll see it through to the Rockies ‘fore I turn from the West


I keep wandering about the lay of the land
Wondering how a field runs fallow in a man
To see deluge through to drought
And let my lowlands without
Would be a barren reminder
Of how I shadow my doubts


Your eyes hold your sadness like tractors wear rust
And if I'm reading you right you're about set to bust
As that slow inching sorrow gets ready to set
I'll see it through to the Rockies ‘fore I turn from the West

I keep wandering about the lay of the land
I wonder about the holler that'll swallow up a man
As my shadows lay long
And lead the dusk into dawn
Would I be right to imagine
That we're the same

from now on
Track Name: The Horse Thief and The Hang Tree
The Horse Thief & The Hang Tree


They say a thief is born of the wolves...
But our child of desire wore plainer clothes, he just ached for the things he stole. The day he made off with the reigns of a thoroughbred with a heavy mane he said, “God will surely now know my name. He found his feet on the horse and though an outlaw could hole up North he was blamed to a different course. If mercy falls late on the bless’d then a horse thief would earn a mile less. So he ran, ran without rest.

Get ye West like the rains
Be absolved in the river
From whence you came
Fly on South to the sands
Be it known the desert’s home
To a wanted man

They say his feet beat the path of a ghost, that he rode on the rim of the rocks of the coast on the tail of a Nightingale’s notes. And he aged in the ways of a seer, rode a scarecrow on a boney mare without hope, without doubt, and without care.

Get ye West like the rains
Be absolved in the river
From whence you came
Fly on South to the sands
Be it known the desert’s home
To a wanted man

Though we pray for the man on the mend the law got its way as it does in the end and forgot, he was caught, decades spent. What the folks of the town recollect are the eyes of a man who had seen through his death long before he was found short of breath. No one asked if he cared to repent but still the hang tree was ne’er lighter bent. All they hung were some clothes and a name of a man whom the desert had shaken of shame in the hollow of a hallowed refrain...