đ” âCold Beer along the Road (Buchanan Dam Days)â (Talkie / Documentary Style â under 8 min) âž» đïž Intro (spoken, slow and reflective) Ainât much left now⊠of what it felt like⊠But there was a time⊠when that stretch of road⊠out toward Buc-Can-An (Buchanan) Dam was alive with men⊠Not tourists⊠Not weekend folks⊠Workinâ men. âž» đ” Verse 1 (light melody, mostly spoken rhythm) They come in by the truckload, dust risinâ in the air, From rock and steel and river mud, and that dam goinâ up out there. Sun beat down all afternoon, on backs bent hard and low, When that whistle finally sounded⊠they all knew where to go. âž» đ” Chorus (simple, hookie, easy repeat) Cold beer on the highway⊠ice meltinâ in a box, Boots kickinâ dust off the floorboards, leaninâ up against cedar posts. Ainât nothinâ fancy, just shade and time⊠and a breeze if one would come, Cold beer on the highway⊠when the dayâs hard work was done. âž» đïž Spoken Bridge (slow, storytelling) Now they called âem icehouses⊠Didnât start out for drinkinâ⊠just a place to keep things cold⊠But you let a man find a cold beer⊠at the end of a hot Texas day⊠Well⊠that place turns into somethinâ else. âž» đ” Verse 2 (steady, a little more rhythm) Tin roof poppinâ in the heat, boards rough-cut and gray, Hand-painted sign sayinâ âBEERâ fadinâ day by day. Wooden crates and chunks of ice, water runninâ down, You could hear the caps pop open âfore you even hit the ground. âž» đ” Chorus (repeat) Cold beer on the highway⊠ice meltinâ in a box, Laughinâ loud and tellinâ stories, leaninâ up on cedar props. Ainât no band, no neon light⊠just the end of a run, Cold beer on the highway⊠when the dayâs hard work was done. âž» đïž Spoken Bridge (more personal tone) Youâd see âem pull in⊠Flatbeds⊠old pickups⊠some of âem ridinâ three deep in the cab⊠Shirts soaked through⊠faces lined with dust⊠Didnât matter where they come from⊠for that little stretch of eveninâ⊠They all belonged right there. âž» đ” Verse 3 (slower, more reflective) Some talked pay and some talked rain, some just sat and stared, Some laughed like they owned the world, some looked plain worn and scared. You could hear about tomorrowâs work, or where a man might land, Or just listen to the quiet⊠with a bottle in your hand. âž» đ” Chorus (final, fuller) Cold beer on the highway⊠ice meltinâ in a box, Daylight fallinâ through the oak trees, long shadows on the rocks. They was buildinâ somethinâ bigger⊠than any single man, Cold beer on the highway⊠and a dam across that land. âž» đïž Outro (spoken, soft, trailing off) Most of thatâs gone now⊠Roadâs still there⊠damâs still standinâ⊠But those little places⊠where a man could stop⊠cool off⊠and just be⊠Well⊠You kinda had to be there.
