Cryderville Jail: Lyrics

Traditional

• LP Songs of the Open Road

Cryderville Jail, ain't no jail at all,
The lice in that jail are chewin' the wall.

   Chorus:
   It's hard times in the Cryderville Jail,
   It's hard times, poor boy.

There's a big bull ring in the middle of the floor,
And a damned old jailer to open the door.

   Chorus:

Your pockets he'll pick, and your clothes he will sell,
Your hands he will handcuff, oh damn him to hell.

   Chorus:

Our bed it is made of old rotten rugs,
And when we lay down we are covered with bugs:

   Chorus:

The bugs they swear if we don't give bail,
We are bound to get lousy in Cryderville Jail.

   Chorus:

I wrote to my mother to send me a knife,
The lice and the chinches have threatened my life.

   Chorus:

And here's to the lawyer, he'll come to your cell,
And swear he will clear you in spite of all Hell.

   Chorus:

He'll get all of your money before he will rest,
Then he'll say, "Plead guilty, I think it the best."

   Chorus:

Old Judge Simpson will read you the law,
The damndest fool judge that you ever saw.

   Chorus:

And there sits the jury, a devil of a crew,
They'll look a poor pris'ner clean through and through.

   Chorus:

And here's to the sheriff, I like to forgot,
The darndest old rascal we have in the lot.

   Chorus:

Your privileges he will take, your clothes he will sell,
Get drunk on your money, oh damn him to hell.

   Chorus:

And now I have come to the end of my song,
I'll leave it to the boys as I go along.

   Chorus:

Yes it's hard times in the Cryderville jail,
It's hard times poor boy.

Of note:

A fine performance that sounds as if it is based on intimate knowledge. The downtrodden get an even shorter end of the stick, with the corrupt lawmen taking advantage.

We welcome any suggestions, contributions, or questions. You send it, we'll consider using it. Help us spread the word. And the music. And thanks for visiting.