I am, I confess with some embarrassment, a Willie Nelson fan. And yes, I’m referring to the guy shown just above. I don’t think I was ever aware of the clean-cut Willie Nelson who evidently preceded him.
Sure. He’s got his issues. Tax evasion and a perpetual haze among them. But he’s written and performed a lot of good songs, enjoyable ballads, in his time. Here are a couple of stanzas, about treachery, from one of them:
Lefty, he can’t sing the blues
All night long like he used to:
The dust that Poncho bit down south
Ended up in Lefty’s mouth.
The day they laid poor Poncho low,
Lefty split for Ohio.
Where he got the bread to go
There ain’t nobody knows.
The poets tell how Poncho fell
And Lefty’s living in cheap motels.
The desert’s quiet;
So the story ends, we’re told.
Poncho needs your prayers, it’s true.
But save a few for Lefty, too.
He only did “what he had to do”
. . . But now he’s growing old.
To cite a lyric from quite a different songwriter: “Tale as old as time, true as it can be.”