Ukestock (a sort-of Joni Mitchell/CSNY cover)
In 2008, I played in a show called Ukestock that Rich Leufstedt put together in Worcester, Mass. A couple of weeks before the show, I wrote this alternate set of lyrics for Joni Mitchell's "Woodstock" (which I know mostly from the Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young version), though I didn't play it at the show. I'm playing in one of Rich's Uke-a-palooza shows next month, which made me think of playing this. Jim Beloff gets name-dropped because he was one of the headliners at Ukestock.
Lyrics:
Well, I came upon Jim Beloff
He was walking along the road
I asked him "Where are you going?" and this he told me
He said I'm going up to Leufstedt's gig
Goin' to join a ukulele band
Gotta take my uke in hand and set my soul free
We are ukesters, we are golden
We're prepared with years rehearsing
And we've got to get ourselves back to the four strings
By the time I got to UkeStock
We were a hundred and fifty strong
And everywhere was the sound of plinking and strumming
And I dreamed I saw the bomber jet planes
Turning into koa wood
And our love and brotherhood was strung with nylon
We play Kalas, we play Ponos
We play Flukes and we play Martins
And we've got to get ourselves back to the four strings
In 2008, I played in a show called Ukestock that Rich Leufstedt put together in Worcester, Mass. A couple of weeks before the show, I wrote this alternate set of lyrics for Joni Mitchell's "Woodstock" (which I know mostly from the Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young version), though I didn't play it at the show. I'm playing in one of Rich's Uke-a-palooza shows next month, which made me think of playing this. Jim Beloff gets name-dropped because he was one of the headliners at Ukestock.
Lyrics:
Well, I came upon Jim Beloff
He was walking along the road
I asked him "Where are you going?" and this he told me
He said I'm going up to Leufstedt's gig
Goin' to join a ukulele band
Gotta take my uke in hand and set my soul free
We are ukesters, we are golden
We're prepared with years rehearsing
And we've got to get ourselves back to the four strings
By the time I got to UkeStock
We were a hundred and fifty strong
And everywhere was the sound of plinking and strumming
And I dreamed I saw the bomber jet planes
Turning into koa wood
And our love and brotherhood was strung with nylon
We play Kalas, we play Ponos
We play Flukes and we play Martins
And we've got to get ourselves back to the four strings
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