Big WTF Candy Mountain
A favorite since I was introduced to it, strangely enough, in bowdlerized form in the Rankin-Bass classic The Easter Bunny is Comin' To Town , Big Rock Candy Mountain (in its non-bowdlerized form) has popped up twice in recent days on my various music-shuffling devices. The all-knowing oracle tells me that it's a modern Cockaigne song, a tale of a mythical land of improbable liberty and plenty. A fun tune, despite it's somewhat troubling views of paradise, including jails made of tin, from which you can walk right out of as soon as you're in. The crime rate in Big Rock Candy Mountain is likely astronomical. Nonetheless, I can see how it'd be appealing to early 20th-century transient rail enthusiasts, i.e, hobos. Apart from shotguns, what else do hobos want? A land that's fair and bright. Everyone wants this. See, hobos are people too! Handouts that grow on bushes. To sleep out every night. Empty boxcars. For the sun to shine every day. Cigarette trees. Lemona