(Performed as a talking blues song.)

It was an unfamiliar city that I wandered through that night
The sleet was falling quickly they had canceled all the flights
So I turned up my sheepskin collar against the icy wind that blew
And went in search of entertainment down the neon avenue

The sign outside said "Coffee House Live entertainment, Folk"
It didn't look expensive and I was nearly broke
I had spent many evenings in spots like this before
And I never saw the weathered sign nailed above the door

It said "Folk Nazis"

I went inside. The place was packed with faded torn blue jeans
All worn by folks who'd overdosed on tofu and soybeans
Their eyes were dull, their hair was long, they sat there nonchalant
As if it were the sixties, or somewhere in Vermont.

It was open mike, the stage was free for anyone inspired
Talent was appreciated, but it was not required
I got myself a cup of coffee and found myself a seat
Then noticed that the place mats were labeled "The Rule Sheet

For Folk Nazis"

The rules said "Arlo Guthrie and Bob Dylan are OK
But no more Joni Mitchel, we've decided she's passé
Poets are allowed" it said, "If they're not too eclectic
And death to those musicians who dare to play electric

At Folk Nazis"

They called the first musician. A young man came up alone
And strapped around his neck he wore a golden saxophone
He played a long cool soulful note, but before his next breath
A band of folkies stormed the stage and stomped the boy to death

A man got up and sang some songs he said were his creation
When he noticed several people were engaged in conversation
He demanded their attention and when they did not comply
He pulled out a tiny pistol and shot each one between the eyes

The next few acts obeyed the rules, played acoustic and told stories
One guy did a sing along, which of course was mandatory
One man told some tales of his travels near and far
And forty seven other people all sang and played guitar

At Folk Nazis

They called the next musician and she started to perspire
The reason for her fear was clear - she had an amplifier
And I could tell from her flushed face her heart was beating faster
As with trepidation she picked up her Fender Stratocaster

I shared the sense of panic that I saw within her eyes
I quickly left, I did not wish to witness her demise
The rain was freezing on my neck, so I turned my collar higher
And behind me, in the distance, I heard submachine gun fire

At Folk Nazis

 

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© 1986 Dave Hitt