Down the road to Union Station running through the fog
I thought I saw Joe Hill last night grinning like a dog
“I understand they did you in for everyone to see”
He smiled—shook his head—“that’s a lie,” said he
“I been on a mountain top observing from a cloud
Been in the hearts of workers milling with the crowd
My tears are shed for freedom and equality of means
My blood and perspiration oil the gears of your machine”
Down the road again
Down the road again
Down the road to Massachusetts driving through the night
I thought I saw Jack Kennedy hitchhiking by a light
I hit the brakes—backed up slow, and Kennedy got in
I said, “It’s nice to see you lookin’ back in shape again
Correct me if I’m wrong but I believe they gunned you down”
He just shook his head and looked off sadly with a frown
Said, “bullets are like waves, they only rearrange the sand
History turns upon the tides and not the deeds of man”
Down the road again
Down the road again
Driving down to Fiddler’s Green to hear a tune or two1
I thought I saw John Lennon there, looking kind of blue
I sat down beside him, said “I thought you bought the store”2
He said “I heard that rumor, what can I do you for?”
“Have you written anything I might have never heard?”
He picked up his guitar and strummed a minor third
All I can recall of what he sang, for what it’s worth
“Long as songs of mine are sung I’m with you on this earth”
Down the road again
Down the road again
From the corner of my eye I saw the sun explode
I didn’t look directly ’cause it would have burned my soul
When the smoke and thunder cleared enough to look around
I heard a sweet guitar lick, an old familiar sound
I heard a laugh I recognized come rolling from the earth
Saw it rise into the skies like lightning giving birth
It sounded like Garcia but I couldn’t see the face
Just the beard and the glasses and a smile on empty space3
Words by Robert Hunter
Music by Mickey Hart
The happy land imagined by sailors where there is perpetual mirth, a fiddle that never stops playing for dancers who never tire, plenty of grog, and unlimited tobacco. (Brewer’s)
A reworking of the “bought the farm” phrase. See “Childhood’s End” for a discussion of the origin of this phrase.
Evoking the Cheshire Cat, referred to in “China Cat Sunflower” and “Can’t Come Down.” See “Can’t Come Down” for a full discussion of the renowned cat.
Studio recording: Mickey Hart’s Mystery Box (June 1996).
First performance by The Dead: July 10, 2003, at Red Rocks Amphitheater in Morrison, Colorado.
The song at one time had an additional verse. Hunter sang it in a solo performance on March 1, 1997:
Driving down the road all night, the sun is rising red
[Reciting] old stories, and conversing with the dead
I rode into Selma, low on gasoline
Been so long on empty, I been ridin’ on a dream
The fellow at the station looked like Martin Luther King
“You’re low on oil,” he said, with an old familiar ring
“How far to the mountain, friend,” I asked him face to face
“You’re standing on it now,” he said, “you just don’t know the place”
In a 1996 interview with David Gans, Mickey Hart explained the background to how this verse came to be replaced with the verse about Garcia:
Gans: [“Down the Road”] must have been one of the last ones that got written?
Hart: Oh, yeah, well, it got written, but then Hunter came in and changed the last verse. He said, “You know the fourth verse? I’ve got a better verse.”
Gans: Who was it before?
Hart: The fourth verse? It was a Martin Luther King verse, you know.
Gans: Uh-huh.
Hart: I said, “Okay, write it down, let me see it.” He said, “No.” He said, “Let me sing it.” I go, “Okay, man—go in there, and you know, the mike’s set up, go ahead. Let’s hear it.” And as soon as he was halfway through it, you know, I just looked at him. I realized what he had just done, you know. It was just right on; I mean, you can imagine what the control room was like at that very moment.
Gans: Yeah.
Hart: You know, just Hunter—he just went outside, you know, [and] lightning struck. It came to him like it usually does, and he just poured it right out. I think he was still writing while he was singing. It’s like one of those kind of magical moments, just “shoop”—“oh, boy, this is exactly perfect.” My sentiments exactly, and you know, it couldn’t have been—it was exactly how we were feeling, and of course we were all grieving and everything at this time, it happened right after Jerry went. So this was a, like, real spontaneous act on Hunter’s part. I mean, I would have never asked him to do it—it entered my mind, but I couldn’t imagine anything that wouldn’t be corny, you know, and he managed to do it very well. Great sentiment. 91