‘The Night Hank Williams Died’ by Jeff Eardley

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There never was a night so long
When time went crawling by.
The Arctic wind came howling in
Across the Nashville sky.
The planes had all been grounded
With no tickets left to ride.
It was wheels out on the highway
On the night Hank Williams died.

The radio played Country
At the dark end of the day.
To Canton they were rolling
As the old year slipped away.
The pain was ever harder
As he sat alone and cried.
With the hourglass nearly empty
On the night Hank Williams died.

Then somewhere in the distance
You could hear the lonesome whine
Of a freight train out of Knoxville
With the Moon across the pines.
The distant crowd were gathered
At the stroke of Eventide,
But their hero had departed
On the night Hank Williams died.

So, float me on a Pirogue
To the Bayou of my dreams.
I’ll feast on Filé Gumbo,
Though I don’t know what it means
To wind up in a Cadillac,
no loved one by your side,
The victim of a cheating heart,
The night Hank Williams died.

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Jeff Eardley lives in the heart of England near to the Peak District National Park and is a local musician playing guitar, mandolin and piano steeped in the music of America, including the likes of Ry Cooder, Paul Simon, and particularly Hank Williams.