Story Behind The Song

Fred the cat

Song Description

about a blind cat

Lyrics

Me and this blind cat named Fred drove to New York City
I was looking for a fine grey Stetson hat
gonna write a song about Greenwich Village
I couldn't find the Gas Light
Had a Stollies down at the Bitter End
I thought about when I'd met Dave Von Ronk
I'd bummed a smoke from him
He had a voice like smoke filled bourbon
He could conjure anything
From demons to dreamers he was the best I'd ever seen
But back home a storm was raging
I had to leave by morning
Every dial on the radio was like a southern preachers warning

After the rain
I looked across Lake Pontchartrain
My house all full of mud and blood
Never gonna be the same
I gotta find a place to live
I gotta find a place to live
I gotta find a place
I'm up to my knees
But it ain't gonna be ain't gonna be
New Orleans

I drove out to Houston where the sky was grungy gray
Went north to Chicago
Heard ol Buddy Guy play
"Damn Right I Got the Blues"
Sent a shank right to my bones
so I drove out to Seattle
where I used to have a home
I saw Alice Stuart playing "Hard Time Killing Floor"
Thought I saw the ghost of Skip James
standing by the door
But Fred was getting restless
And I was getting cold
We drove south to L.A.
Still looking for a home

CHORUS:

L.A. was a rumble a clattering a clank
Rappers, rockers, gangsters
All mixing in that tank
So we rolled on to Phoenix
Where Fred took a turn for worse
Must have been Seattle where he'd caught a coughing curse
Fred was gone by morning
Like smoke in the sagebrush wind
Of all the cats I've known he was the best of them
So I buried him near Winslow
Where his ghost might catch a ride
Sprinkled catnip on his graveside
As a flat bed Ford drove by

CHORUS

Me and this blind cat named Fred
Drove to New York City
I bought a fine Grey Stetson Hat
But never wrote that song about Greenwich Village