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Ramblin’ Man

i’m heading out for the ramblin’ road

and i’m holding on to my childish faith

Never knew about the Western Sea

But it all was made clear to me.

I’m in the trail of the ramblin’ man

In the trail of the ramblin’ man.

When miles of road pass me by

I think about home every time

And jack you showed me long ago

the reason how to play

I’m in the trail of my ramblin’ friend

In the trail of the ramblin’ man.

Buested home, age thirteen

Chase around my old dreams

Headed out to Woodstock ville

Found the words to write this song

I’m in the trail of the ramblin’ man

In the trail of the ramblin’ man.

Often play that time stands still

‘cup i hope to see you one more time

And if there’s something like a musical dad

i know it would be Ramblin’ Jack

I’m in the trail of the ramblin’ man

In the trail of the ramblin’ man.

And i know you’e my ramblin’ friend

you’e my ramblin’ friend

A tribute to the person why I play…

 

The story behind it:

When I was a little kid of nine years old, my father used to organize concerts for American folk musicians (f.e. Eugene Ruffolo, Happy and Artie Traum,…) . One of the most remarkable people he worked with is a folk legend across the Atlantic, Ramblin’ Jack Elliot.
Back at that time we used to live in a small apartment. On one of the first occasions Jack came to Europe, my dad had the amazing idea: “Let Jack sleep at our apartment.” There was my dad, Sylvia, me, Jack and his driver. Five people in the small apartment.

He literally almost drove people insane.

Yodeling in the shower, … but he got me hooked on the guitar.