"Richfield Whistle" lyrics
My name is James Lucas
I was born in Remington
And paroled from Richfield Prison
In the winter of '81
I was free and on the streets of Indiana
I'd just turned 32
Just a man with nowhere left to run
No different, sir, than you
Me and Pat, we married in the spring
Moved in with her Ma and Pa
On our wedding night she sighed, "Jimmy
We can have anything we want"
It was for those things we wanted
We worked as hard as two people could
But somehow in the end, mister
This didn't do no good
The prison got me drivin' delivery
For Mr. Wills over in Ridgeside
Well, I started loadin' a little extra
And I'd sell it on the side
I didn't like what I was doin'
I didn't lose no sleep at night
Mr. Wills, he was a rich man
He'd been a rich man all his life
I was on the loadin' dock one evening
When I heard the warehouse phone
The dispatcher said, "Jim, they wanna see you
In the front office 'fore you go home"
All Mr. Wills said was, "I don't understand
I could send you back to Richfield fast
If you needed some extra money, Jim
All you had to do was ask"
Well, that night me and Pat, we had a fight
I was out drivin' 'round in the rain
With a fifth of gin and a half tank of gas
And ten dollars to my name
I passed a deserted liquor store
Way out on Highway 1
I turned and pulled into that parking lot
Got out but I let my motor run
Well, I stood lookin' in the window
For a long, long while
When I walked in the man behind the register
He looked at me and smiled
"That's some weather we're havin' out there
Can I help you find somethin', friend?"
I didn't answer, I just stood there
Then I turned around and went
I don't know how long I sat in my driveway
My shirt was covered in sweat
The house was dark when I went in
Pat was lyin' awake in bed
She hit the light, I was standin' in the doorway
She said, "I was worried, where'd you been so long?"
I felt her arms around me
She said, "Jimmy, I'm so glad you're home"
Richfield Prison stands on a high hill
Where the county line runs out
And there's a whistle that blows every time a man comes in
Or a man gets out
That night we lay wrapped in each other's arms
Listenin' to the rain
I heard that Richfield whistle blowin'
Just blowin' in my dreams
I was born in Remington
And paroled from Richfield Prison
In the winter of '81
I was free and on the streets of Indiana
I'd just turned 32
Just a man with nowhere left to run
No different, sir, than you
Me and Pat, we married in the spring
Moved in with her Ma and Pa
On our wedding night she sighed, "Jimmy
We can have anything we want"
It was for those things we wanted
We worked as hard as two people could
But somehow in the end, mister
This didn't do no good
The prison got me drivin' delivery
For Mr. Wills over in Ridgeside
Well, I started loadin' a little extra
And I'd sell it on the side
I didn't like what I was doin'
I didn't lose no sleep at night
Mr. Wills, he was a rich man
He'd been a rich man all his life
I was on the loadin' dock one evening
When I heard the warehouse phone
The dispatcher said, "Jim, they wanna see you
In the front office 'fore you go home"
All Mr. Wills said was, "I don't understand
I could send you back to Richfield fast
If you needed some extra money, Jim
All you had to do was ask"
Well, that night me and Pat, we had a fight
I was out drivin' 'round in the rain
With a fifth of gin and a half tank of gas
And ten dollars to my name
I passed a deserted liquor store
Way out on Highway 1
I turned and pulled into that parking lot
Got out but I let my motor run
Well, I stood lookin' in the window
For a long, long while
When I walked in the man behind the register
He looked at me and smiled
"That's some weather we're havin' out there
Can I help you find somethin', friend?"
I didn't answer, I just stood there
Then I turned around and went
I don't know how long I sat in my driveway
My shirt was covered in sweat
The house was dark when I went in
Pat was lyin' awake in bed
She hit the light, I was standin' in the doorway
She said, "I was worried, where'd you been so long?"
I felt her arms around me
She said, "Jimmy, I'm so glad you're home"
Richfield Prison stands on a high hill
Where the county line runs out
And there's a whistle that blows every time a man comes in
Or a man gets out
That night we lay wrapped in each other's arms
Listenin' to the rain
I heard that Richfield whistle blowin'
Just blowin' in my dreams
Writer(s): Bruce Springsteen
