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Dave’s Picks, Volume 9: Harry Adams Field House, U. of Montana, Missoula, MT · 5/14/74
Disc 1
01. Bertha
02. Me and My Uncle
03. Loser
04. Black‐Throated Wind
05. Scarlet Begonias >
06. It Must Have Been the Roses
07. Jack Straw
08. Tennessee Jed
09. Mexicali Blues
10. Deal
Disc 2
01. Big River
02. Brown‐Eyed Women
03. Playing in the Band
04. U.S. Blues
05. El Paso
06. Row Jimmy
Disc 3
01. Weather Report Suite >
02. Dark Star >
03. China Doll
04. Promised Land
05. Not Fade Away >
06. Goin’ Down the Road Feeling Bad
07. One More Saturday Night
Gone are the days when the ox fall down,
Take up the yoke and plow the fiends around.
Gone are the days when the ladies said' "Please,
Gentle Jack Jones won't you come to me."

Brown-eyed women and red grenadine,
The bottle was dusty but the liquor was clean.
Sound of the thunder with the rain pourin' down,
And it looks like the old man's gettin' on.

1929 when he stepped to the bar, drank to the dregs of the whiskey jar.
1030 when the wall caved in, he made his way selling red-eyed gin.

Brown-eyed women and red grenadine,
The bottle was dusty but the liquor was clean.
Sound of the thunder with the rain pourin' down,
And it looks like the old man's gettin' on.

Delilah Jones was the mother of twins,
Two times over and the rest were sins.
Raised eight boys, only I turned bad,
Didn't get the lickin's that the other ones had.

Brown-eyed women and red grenadine,
The bottle was dusty but the liquor was clean.
Sound of the thunder with the rain pourin' down,
And it looks like the old man's gettin' on.

Tumble down shack on Big Foot country.
Snowed so hard that the roof caved in.
Delilah Jones went to meet her God,
And the old man never was the same again.

Daddy made whiskey and he made it well.
Cost two dollars and it burned like hell.
I cut hick'ry just to fire the still,
Drink down a bottle and be ready to kill.

Brown-eyed women and red grenadine,
The bottle was dusty but the liquor was clean.
Sound of the thunder with the rain pourin' down,
And it looks like the old man's gettin' on.

Gone are the days when the ox fall down,
Take up the yoke and plow the fiends around.
Gone are the days when the ladies said' "Please,
Gentle Jack Jones won't you come to me."

Brown-eyed women and red grenadine,
The bottle was dusty but the liquor was clean.
Sound of the thunder with the rain pourin' down,