La La La Laaaa

I am going to GENEVA TOMORROW (well, technically I am taking the late train to Albany when I get out of work, bunking with my friend, and then roadtripping Thursday morning.)

Here is a song for the occasion:

One evening as the sun went down
And the jungle fires were burning,
Down the track came a hobo hiking,
And he said, "Boys, I'm not turning
I'm headed for a land that's far away
Besides the crystal fountains
So come with me, we'll go and see
The Big Rock Candy Mountains

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains,
There's a land that's fair and bright,
Where the handouts grow on bushes
And you sleep out every night.
Where the boxcars all are empty
And the sun shines every day
And the birds and the bees
And the cigarette trees
The lemonade springs
Where the bluebird sings
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains.

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
All the cops have wooden legs
And the bulldogs all have rubber teeth
And the hens lay soft-boiled eggs
The farmers' trees are full of fruit
And the barns are full of hay
Oh I'm bound to go
Where there ain't no snow
Where the rain don't fall
The winds don't blow
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains.

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
You never change your socks
And the little streams of alcohol
Come trickling down the rocks
The brakemen have to tip their hats
And the railway bulls are blind
There's a lake of stew
And of whiskey too
You can paddle all around it
In a big canoe
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains,
The jails are made of tin.
And you can walk right out again,
As soon as you are in.
There ain't no short-handled shovels,
No axes, saws nor picks,
I'm bound to stay
Where you sleep all day,
Where they hung the jerk
That invented work
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains.
....
I'll see you all this coming fall
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

c. Harry McClintock, Big Rock Candy Mountain, 1928.

Seriously, I am obnoxiously giddy about revisiting the alma mater ever dear, although I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to handle being back and NOT being a student (it might heighten my identity crisis.) However, going to Geneva involves some of my favorite things: seeing some people I very much care about, fall in the Finger Lakes, Watkins Glen, roadtripping and creating roadtrip playlists (no such thing as too much Abba or Irish pub songs, that's my motto), slumber parties in our old house, close proximity to wineries, close proximity to lakes, apples, and the joyousness of friends. Be back late Sunday. xoxo

P.S. Lizzy, I made this song reference just for youuu!