Lyrics

THE RIDERS

Some sigh for those nine bean rows
Some the heavenly abode
Some sigh for the binary
Some the binary code
Some load a hermaphrodite brig
With a cargo of tin
Some ride with Quanah Parker
Some ride against the wind
And those of us who’ve ridden the white horse
In our own expeditionary force
Now weep that history must run its course
Now weep that history must run its course

Some sigh for the Café D’Alsace
Some for telling it slant
Some sigh for brave Ulysses
Some Ulysses S. Grant
Some can’t believe that you’re for real
I think I’ve got you sussed
Some ride upon the railroad
For some it rides on us
And those of us who’ve ridden the white horse
In our own expeditionary force
Now weep that history must run its course
Now weep that history must run its course

Some still sigh for Art Blakey
Some sigh for how he rolled
Some sigh for Acapulco
Some Acapulco Gold
Some hold a piercing on their tongue
Some a burning coal
Some ride in on a donkey
Some ride out on a pole
And those of us who’ve ridden the white horse
In our own expeditionary force
Now weep that history must run its course
Now weep that history must run its course