[Intro] [Two double hits on the fiddle open the track, acoustic guitar strumming and strong acoustic bass enter immediately on the beat, mid-tempo traditional rhythm] [Chorus] [Raw male lead vocals with quiet female backing harmony only, flat neutral midwestern accent, no country twang, driving fiddle melody weaving underneath, steady acoustic strumming] With a fluster of feathers, And a crack of lead thunder, Facing up to the west-setting sun. [Vocals stop, fiddle plays a signature melodic turnaround riff over the steady acoustic strumming] [Verse 1] [Male lead vocals only, no female vocals, flat neutral midwestern accent, clear spoken-sung delivery, melodic fiddle lines weaving underneath the singing] Perched in the duck blind with a dog getting restless, He points when they’re about to take flight. Put my Brown-ing to shoulder, Facing up to the west-sinking sun. [Verse 2] [Male lead vocals only, no female vocals, flat neutral midwestern accent, clear spoken-sung delivery, melodic fiddle lines weaving underneath the singing] This old gun was my daddy’s; He left it to me when he died. It feels firm, stern, and mighty, Just like my old daddy’s hands. We hunted these back hills, We trapped in these hollows, But the government sold most of the land. [Chorus] [Raw male lead vocals with quiet female backing harmony only, flat neutral midwestern accent, no country twang, driving fiddle melody weaving underneath, steady acoustic strumming] With a fluster of feathers, And a crack of lead thunder, Facing up to the west-sinking sun. [Vocals stop, fiddle plays a signature melodic turnaround riff over the steady acoustic strumming] [Irish Uilleann Pipes Solo] [Vocals stop completely, traditional irish uilleann pipes take a haunting melodic lead solo, the celtic fiddle drops into the background to harmonize quietly underneath the pipes over the steady rhythm section] [Verse 3] [Male lead vocals only, no female vocals, flat neutral midwestern accent, clear spoken-sung delivery, melodic fiddle lines weaving underneath the singing] I dropped two on the first, And another that followed behind. Now the dog’s off and running; I rise to the sharp autumn sky. [Verse 4] [Male lead vocals only, no female vocals, flat neutral midwestern accent, clear spoken-sung delivery, melodic fiddle lines weaving underneath the singing] This may be the last time I soak in this country, Walk out in these fields, Fire this Bel-jun beauty, Work this re-triev-er again. That old dog, my best friend, Probably will miss it the most. This will kill him—it’s his fucking job. [Bridge - Fiddle Solo] [Vocals stop completely, the fiddle takes center stage playing a long, crying traditional melody over the steady rhythm section] [Chorus] [Raw male lead vocals with quiet female backing harmony only, flat neutral midwestern accent, no country twang, driving fiddle melody weaving underneath, steady acoustic strumming] With a fluster of feathers, And a crack of lead thunder, Facing up to the west-sinking sun. [Vocals stop, fiddle plays a signature melodic turnaround riff over the steady acoustic strumming] [Outro] [Vocals stop completely, fiddle immediately plays the two double hits hook from the intro, acoustic guitar and strong acoustic bass lock into the opening rhythm, fast clean studio fade over the final bars] [End]
