Woody Whitman

In the key of E

I am American Slang,

the Word a living breathing bleeding thang

the cuneiform inebriated with the god of the dang

The world aint asleep, you just gotta say their name

Don’t shout at the dead, call to the awake

Rush like a drunk bum on the masses,

Spewing spittle and giggling nonsenses,

O world, be not ashamed of Noah’s nakedness, embrace it!


I am Woody Whitman

I am JE Jones,

I am Caleb Henry

Holy as a rolling stone,

I am American Slang

Black Dutch Heinz 57 mutt

Cherokee wannabe but a pagan punk

Noah’s crow still out lookin for dry land

A poorman’s po boy with a blue collar hand

A folk artist workin for the salesman man


Drunk drunk drunker n a skunk

Cryin on the porch a grown ass man

Crying for beauty cryin for truth

Cryin for my children the American youth

Cryin for those that can’t get drunk drunk drunker than a skunk

I call verse to my people,

My people be broke, my people be peasants,

my people be plebeians overcomers and addicts

My people be people

They’re American Slang

My manic histrionic histories told

In the wave of my hand around the fire,

Listen to me dithyramble like a drunk shaman,

I am writer, read me roar!

Listen to me now at 40 score

Just now in the hoar,

I bring fire I bring flint

I bring Patsy I bring Kent

We all American Slang!

I bring the south I bring north

I bring east I bring west,

I can’t cross the seas cause I broke my wings

But I soar like a vision

Over the face of America’s deep,

Oregon born Washington found

South come West on a Greyhound

Washington train smoke in Spokane’s craw,

Bum with pride enough to saunter

across a greenlight in front of the law,

Spokane jawbone of a gentle ass

To slay the masses


I am American Slang,


Jumped up Jesus

Holy is thy name

John the Baptist

Baptizing Jesus in His own name,

They’re American Slang

The Father the Spirit the Son one and the same,

Creator, Daddy, Old Man, content in his own make

So what loves he gives he gives and does not take,

And if you think this makes sense

You lie in a white man’s grave

I was baptized at the bend of the Colville River,

Jesus wringing out the bend like a snake,

Ring the rod and let us all partake

In the cuneiform coming awake

The hieroglyphs moving

The dialects changing

The Tower of Babel spread across the states

Remember what we once built to try and make us great

My people my people we’re going to be ok!

We’re American Slang

Take not the living word in vain

Be alive and living on this cosmic corporeal plane

I am the prophet you think insane

Ye who would cut my long hair with a chainsaw


We are American Slang,

Get up jump up get living again,

We built the highways, we hacked the roads,

We put Them on reservations,

Covered the cries of the stones,

They are American Slang

We put them in chains

And bent their backs,

Then Frederick Douglass went and busted our yap

My daddy with Bloods doing the Vietnam dap,

They all American slang

Thank god we got black

Bleeding into our Red White and Blue,

I’m a whiteman how about you?

I see your skin I aint blind

But I also see mine,

Whitebread cracker toein a red line,



We are American Slang,

Cowboys and Indians hallowed be thy name

Lightning struck the bison

But it still walked across the plain

That’s American slang

Let not these days pass you by

Howl an American prayer at the sky

Ever race every religion every creed every tribe,

Black and blue red yella and white

I will give you my blanket tonight

I will sit with you and give you what is mine,

I will embrace you,

I will slight you,

I will sin against you against my best intent,

But please be kind when I go hellbent

Cursing at night setting up my goddamn tent,

And I will try to do the same

When you take my name in vain

We all one tribe,

We one people under the God of the Same,

We all American Slang!


I am American Slang,

 Son of the father of the man

My daddy a medic in Vietnam

Johnny Doe signed up to beat the draft

Just like the rest got the royal shaft

They be counting bodies like sales quotas

(Relayed to the dealer behind the roulette wheel of the stock market

within the casino of the federal reserve),

daddy John Doe father of the man

son of the man

He patches up the leftovers from the meatgrinder of war

Trucked in on iron birds dangling entrails,

Hueys screaming war cry of jungle crusher and rome plow

Bloods brothers honkys blacks whites, Vietcong vietnam

All spilling the same color of blood

Sons of the man sending them to their goddamn

My daddy was a corpsman in Vietnam

American Son

Never got to use his goddamn gun

But saw all the damage Cain’s stone done

And I seen it I seen it to

In my mind’s eye from the line of my father

In the dreams expressed from my daddy’s aura

The son of the man was the father in Vietnam

Transference cosmic inference

That and the pictures in the attic upstairs

O Sons of Cain!

Be kind!

O Sons of Cain!

Be wise!

O Jesus Christ

Be kind

O Sons of Cain!

Be kind!

O Sons of Cain!

Be wise!

O Jesus Christ

Be kind

We are American slang,

                The States a living moving breathing thang,

                Aint no Perishing Republic nor Untarnished Star

                De Tocqueville thumbing down a car

                Car break down he don’t get too far

      Now get on out and push the car

That’s American Slang

America I sing to thee

Sea to goddamn shining sea

And every other thing in between

To all the people and all the races

All the hearts and hands and magnificent faces

All the great God cities and hidden places

The cornfield the rows to hoe

The forests the mountains where you are free to roam

The towers of glass where the people mass

The rivers and lakes and graves of the past

All an American succotash

All American slang

         Wildly different all the same

A living breathing bleeding thang

Now that’s American $%@#&!