This band is to me THE Great American Rock Band. They represent all that is good about America. Independent and down-to-earth, they just sound like a swell bunch of guys that anyone could hang with. Their songs are pure goodness - melodic but rugged, simple but deep, naturalistic. CCR basically gave me a world where you live outdoors, travel amongst all kinds of people, and just make your own way. A world free and beautiful. A world where you care about people as you would crops and where injustice or elitism is as despised as a ruinous drought.

Proud Mary

Left a good job in the city
Workin’ for the man ev’ry night and day
And I never lost one minute of sleepin’
Worryin’ ’bout the way things might have been

Big wheel keep on turnin’
Proud Mary keep on burnin’
Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’ on the river

Cleaned a lot of plates in Memphis
Pumped a lot of pain down in New Orleans
But I never saw the good side of the city
‘Til I hitched a ride on a river boat queen

Big wheel keep on turnin’
Proud Mary keep on burnin’

Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’ on the river
Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’ on the river

If you come down to the river
Bet you gonna find some people who live
You don’t have to worry ’cause you have no money
People on the river are happy to give

Big wheel keep on turnin’
Proud Mary keep on burnin’
Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’ on the river
Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’ on the river

Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’ on the river
Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’ on the river
Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’ on the river

Bad Moon Rising

I see the bad moon rising
I see trouble on the way
I see earthquakes and lightnin’
I see bad times today

Don’t go ’round tonight
It’s bound to take your life
There’s a bad moon on the rise

I hear hurricanes blowin’
I know the end is commin’ soon
I fear rivers over flowin’
I hear the voice of rage and ruin

Don’t go ’round tonight
It’s bound to take your life
There’s a bad moon on the rise

Hope you got your things together
Hope you are quite prepared to die
Looks like we’er in for nasty weather
One eye is taken for an eye

Don’t go ’round tonight
It’s bound to take your life
There’s a bad moon on the rise

Don’t go ’round tonight
It’s bound to take your life
There’s a bad moon on the rise

Fortunate Son

Some folks are born made to wave the flag
Yeah, the red, white, and blue
When the band plays ‘Hail To The Chief’
Yeah, they’ll point the cannon at you

It ain’t me, it ain’t me
I’m no millionaire’s son
It ain’t me, it ain’t me
I ain’t no fortunate one

Some folks are born silver spoon in hand
Well, they help themselves, yeah
When the taxman comes to the door
House looks a like a rummage sale

It ain’t me, it ain’t me
I ain’t no millionaire’s son
It ain’t me, it ain’t me
I ain’t no fortunate one, no

Some folks inherit star spangled eyes
Yeah, when they send you down to war
Well, when you ask them how much you should give
Yeah, it’s always more, more, more

It ain’t me, it ain’t me
I ain’t no senator’s son
It ain’t me, it ain’t me
I’m no fortunate one

It ain’t me, it ain’t me
I ain’t no military son
It ain’t me, it ain’t me
I ain’t no fortunate son

Down on the Corner   

Early in the evenin’ just about supper time,
Over by the courthouse they’re starting to unwind.
Four kids on the corner trying to bring you up.
Willy picks a tune out and he blows it on the harp.

Down on the corner, out in the street,
Willy and the Poorboys are playin’
Bring a nickel, tap your feet.

Rooster hits the washboard and people just got to smile,
Blinky, thumps the gut bass and solos for a while.
Poorboy twangs the rhythm out on his kalamazoo.
Willy goes into a dance and doubles on kazoo.

Down on the corner, out in the street,
Willy and the Poorboys are playin’
Bring a nickel, tap your feet.

You don’t need a penny just to hang around,
But if you’ve got a nickel, won’t you lay your money down?
Over on the corner there’s a happy noise.
People come from all around to watch the magic boy.

Down on the corner, out in the street,
Willy and the Poorboys are playin’
Bring a nickel, tap your feet.

Cotton Fields (cover)

When I was a little bitty baby
My mama would rock me in the cradle,
In them old cotton fields back home

It was down in Louisiana,
Just about a mile from Texarkana,
In them old cotton fields back home.

Oh, when them cotton bolls get rotten
You can’t pick very much cotton,
In them old cotton fields back home.

It was down in Louisiana,
Just about a mile from Texarkana,
In them old cotton fields back home.

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