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Author Topic: Leone's endings & the West  (Read 2173 times)
cigar joe
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« on: August 13, 2003, 07:58:04 PM »

Eastwood rides out of town on his mule in FFOD,  He rides out of Agua Caliente on a wagon full of bodies in FDM while Mortimer rides away on his horse. In GBU Clint rides off into the great open spaces, while Tuco curses him out in the corrida for all eternity, lol.

In OUTITW Leone wants to show the beginings of the transition to modern times with the comming of civilization symbolized by Jill and the railroad. The beginning sequence if it had had Clint, Eli,  and Van Cleef would have driven home the point. The death of Cheyenne also helped cement this theme. But Harmonica still rides off into the landscape an immortal.

In the real west our surviving characters would perhaps have followed the the trails to the wests last frontiers, perhaps to southern Arizona or down to Mexico, or north to Wild Horse BC, or the Klondike or to Nome, Alaska.

Either way the ambiguousness of the endings makes Leone's anti-heros immortal.

There is though another possible ending for our anti heros that was written into a song by Guy Clark that I'll write down for you below, I think you'll all like it.

He prefaces it by saying that it takes place out in west Texas at his Aunt's old hotel, it maybe true, then he laughs. (you may find in on music share file if you look) Enjoy!

The Last Gunfighter Ballad

The old gunfighter on the porch
      stared into the sun
And relived the days of living by the gun
When dealy games of pride were  played
And living was mistakes not made
And the thought of the smell
      of the black powder smoke
And the stand in the street
      at the turn of a joke
Ah the smell of the black powder smoke
And the stand in the street
      at the turn of a joke

It's always keep your back to the sun
And he can almost feel the weight of the gun
It's faster than snakes or a blink of an eye
And it's time for all slow men to die
And his eyes get squinty
      and his fingers twitch
And he empties his gun
      at the son of a bitch
And he's hit by the smell
      of the black powder smoke
And the stand in the street
      at the turn of a joke
Hit by the smell of the black powder smoke
And the stand in the street
      at the turn of a joke

Now the burn of a bullet is only a scar
He's back in his chair in front of the bar
And the streets are empty
       and the blood's all dried
And the dead are dust
       and the whiskey's inside
So buy him a drink and lend him an ear
He's nobody's fool and the only one hear
Who remembers the smell
       of the black powder smoke
And the stand in the street
      at the turn of a joke
Remember the smell
      of the black powder smoke
And the stand in the street
      at the turn of a joke

He said I stood in that street
      before it was paved
Learned shoot or be shot
      before I could shave
And I did it all for the
      money and fame
Noble was nothing but feeling no shame
And nothing was sacred save stayin' alive
And all that I learned from a Colt 45
Was to curse the smell
      of the black powder smoke
And the stand in the street
      at the turn of a joke
Curse the smell of the black powder smoke
And the stand in the street
      at the turn of a joke

Now he's just an old man
      that no one believes
Says he's a gunfighter
      the last of the breed
And there are ghosts in the street
      seeking revenge
Calling him out to the lunatic fringe
Now he's out in the traffic
      checking the sun
And he's killed by a car
      as he goes for his gun
So much for the smell
      of the black powder smoke
And the stand in the street
      at the turn of a jokeSo much for the smell
      of the black powder smoke
And the stand in the street
      at the turn of a joke









« Last Edit: August 13, 2003, 08:07:47 PM by cigar joe » Logged

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« Reply #1 on: August 15, 2003, 11:33:16 AM »

Guy Clark is somethin' isn't he?

There are so many favorites, but to stick close to a theme related to Leone, howabout one about trains?


Texas 1947

Now bein' six years old, I had seen some trains before,
so it's hard to figure out what I'm at the depot for.

Trains are big and black and smokin' - steam screamin' at the wheels,
bigger than anything they is, at least that's the way she feels

Trains are big and black and smokin', louder'n July four,
but everybody's actin' like this might be somethin' more. . .

. . .than just pickin' up the mail, or the soldiers from the war.
This is somethin' that even old man Wileman never seen before.

And it's late afternoon on a hot Texas day.
somethin' strange is goin' on, and we's all in the way.

Well there's fifty or sixty people they're just sittin' on their cars,
and the old men left their dominos and they come down from the bars.

Everybody's checkin', old Jack Kittrel check his watch,
and us kids put our ears to the rails to hear 'em pop.

So we already knowed it, when they finally said 'train time'
you'd a-thought that Jesus Christ his-self was rollin' down the line.

'Cause things got real quiet, momma jerked me back,
But not before I'd got the chance to lay a nickel on the track.

Look out here she comes, she's comin',
Look out there she goes, she's gone,
screamin' straight through Texas
like a mad dog cyclone.

Big, red, and silver,
she don't make no smoke,
she's a fast-rollin' streamline
come to show the folks.

Look out here she comes, she's comin'
Look out there she goes, she's gone,
screamin' straight through Texas
like a mad dog cyclone.

. . .Lord, she never even stopped.

She left fifty or sixty people still sittin' on their cars,
and they're wonderin' what it's comin' to
and how it got this far.

Oh but me I got a nickel smashed flatter than a dime
by a mad dog, runaway red-silver streamline. . . train




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cigar joe
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« Reply #2 on: August 15, 2003, 04:29:24 PM »

Yes another good  one, lol.

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KERMIT
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« Reply #3 on: August 15, 2003, 10:20:19 PM »

                RED RIVER

from paloduro canyon outside amarillo texas,
the praire dog town fork of the red river flows.
headed cross the plains along the coast of oklahoma,
to the mississippi river and the gulf of mexico,

red river i know, i know you of old,
you have filled my pockets with quicksand and gold.
sussanna, oh sussanna when it comes my time,
bury me south of that red river line.

my great grandfather came to the red river line,
and camped out on the north  side until it was time.
to cross or to stay to be sooner or not,
he headed south to san antone they said he liked it hot.

here's to good night charlie, and mr. loving too,
here's to coronado, the comanche, and the blues.
here's to bootleggers and the oilfield crews,
here's to the one and all of us red river fools.

guy clark

« Last Edit: August 15, 2003, 11:04:56 PM by KERMIT » Logged
cigar joe
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« Reply #4 on: August 16, 2003, 05:36:21 AM »

Thanks for that one Kermit.

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