So what of his songs? You won’t find it here. Not much on David’s music his life on the road the places he played for by 1964 he’d been about everywhere he’d traveled that Winnemucca road seen people not only from a stage or a corner in a bar inside and outside but in train stations on buses and in cars hotels and past hotel rooms streets and food haunts and there is not much of the other musicians he met other singers bands in which he played their stories nor are there nuances into his craft how he went from novice to master no there is none of this only his life not as a singer but the story of his family and those he loved so that out of all of this all we have is what’s written here the songs of his songs what made me want to write about David’s life for the strange thing is even the David of the Bible not much is mentioned of his psalms only his life only that we know he wrote them… And so Bethany wrote:

November 1st, 1975—She is thirty-four weeks. My daughter. So what have I showed her? My vanity wants to say she is me and will be even more when she becomes a mother but still the past and memories of that river before it was dammed—the Sabine—how it was an old evil river loud with noise of cottonmouths and gators and to this day I know it’s the reason my first husband’s body wasn’t found Pete Southhouse I’m sure the gators got him and I remember the cypress trees how they grew so slow and that’s really how he died my son Benjy it wasn’t no mulberry they don’t’ grow along that river it was a bald cypress the rest is stories fabrications misinterpretations passed along by folks other singers David knew no it was a cypress tree from which the body of my son hang when he fled her room Maddie that was his coffin and I know now after I visited that old woman present at both our births what happened wasn’t nothing but suicide my boy’s suicide that old voodoo woman showed me… I skinny-dipped in it once when I was a girl in Hemphill I’ve swam in it and I remember how we made a bunch of noise and we didn’t swim long for it’s a dirty river awful muddy and that’s the river David crossed the Sabine when Benjy our sons were born and he crossed it when Benjy died and I remember my old lover from my youth my God so long ago thirty-three years now how he crossed it and never returned what my father said of the river and I hear the words of David mixed with my father and I can imagine how Dulcinea heard her father’s David’s voice what she will hear when her child is born the words… I am a man for have I entered. I have entered you and I have seen it in your eyes what no words can convey the submission unto power and all those weak little deaths crying out Hey! I’m not only good I’m the best! The fault of any performance what we see hid knowing what you try to hide the curse of a woman the promise that you shall crush his head but he shall bruise your heel yes that story the trials of your labor and the sweat and toil that I shall always sing to what we will always be talking about even when the eternal fire of the fire goes out…

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