2001 Barkley Ranch Song by Rich Limacher

Rich “The Troubadour” Limacher (aka scRitch) is a runner and a singer or something. Here’s his a song vaguely related to the 2001 race, as originally published on Matt Mahoney’s great site.

Barkley’s Farm in Song & Dance (Part 1)

by Rich Limacher

DOWN ON BARKLEY’S FARM
In Two Quick Parts (‘cuz Ah wuddn’t thar long!)
Called “The Song” And “The Dance”

Part 1
“The Song”

(With Apologies to Bob Dylan)

I ain’t gonna run on Barkley’s farm no more.
No, I ain’t gonna run on Barkley’s farm no more.
Well, I wake up in the morning,
Close my tent and wait for rain.
Got thoughts stuck in my craw
That are drivin’ me insane.
It’s a shame the way I’m soaked all through the core.
I ain’t gonna run on Barkley’s farm no more.

I ain’t gonna run for lazzy lake no more.
No, I ain’t gonna run for lazzy lake no more.
The way he writes them rules,
In some states it’s a crime.
Then he asks you with a grin
If you plan to go five times,
An’ he taps you with his horn when ya could never go four.
I ain’t gonna run for lazzy lake no more.

I ain’t gonna run for Barkley chicken no more.
No, I ain’t gonna run for Barkley chicken no more.
Well, sometimes it is black,
And sometimes it has grease.
But most the time you’re lucky
If you even get one piece.
And then the skies just open up and pour.
Ah, I ain’t gonna run for Barkley chicken no more.

I ain’t gonna run in Frozen Park no more.
No, I ain’t gonna run in Frozen Park no more.
Well, they send you on your way
With a list of books you’ll need,
Like as if you will have time
To ever sit and read
On trails not cleared since Columbus hit our shore.
I ain’t gonna run in Frozen Park no more.

I ain’t gonna climb up Little Hell no more.
No, I ain’t gonna climb up Little Hell no more.
They make you ford a river
Lookin’ for an up-turned pan,
And then you climb the mountain
And umpteen more again.
But then everyone knows Big Hell is yet in store.
Ah, I ain’t gonna climb up Little Hell no more.

I ain’t gonna sleep on Chimney Ridge no more.
No, I ain’t gonna sleep on Chimney Ridge no more.
First they let you quit
An’ take a sissy trail home,
But if you just can’t find it
You will only have to roam,
Or spend your night freezin’ on the forest floor.
I ain’t gonna sleep on Chimney Ridge no more.

I ain’t gonna run on Barkley’s farm no more.
No, I ain’t gonna run on Barkley’s farm no more.
They want you stay awake
For three nights in a row,
But only if you’re fast enough
And Gary gives you the go.
But most of us are too damned tired and sore.
I ain’t gonna run on Barkley’s farm no more.

*We* ain’t gonna run on Barkley’s farm no more.
No, WE ain’t gonna run on Barkley’s farm no more.
This year there were winners,
Unlikely as it seems.
Two men touched the gate
Just like in a dream.
So Blake an’ Dave are legends for future lore.
Ah, we THREE ain’t gonna run on Barkley’s farm no more!

[The End]
(Amen!)

Rich Limacher
The Troubadour
“Scruffy, unkempt sorry-ass Illinois chicken farmer contemplatin’ the virtues of stayin’ the hell otta politix”


Reproduced with permission. If you’d like your Barkley report or other content on the site, just let me know. If you didn’t understand any of the terms, check out the Quick Reference Guide.

Peace.

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