The HORSE EYED MEN play disgruntled roots and country with new shoots for old bumpkins. One part storytelling, two dashes itchy twang, three times good music to feel bad two, and bardic poems thrown in four boots.

A 19th century horse watches His man as he plows deeper into the 21st century. The songs have carried their singers by station wagon, jet plane, and motorcycle side car from the high Prussians of Berlin, Germany to the beautiful hills of Vermont to the Nude American Desert of Texarkansalvanyia to the Newport Folk Festival. If you would like to learn more, read below about where they really come from.

Out upon the charred morass
Where the creeping tendrils lie
Across that sullen plain I scuppered
Into the bestial gloam

Where like a rabid bat enraged
A buxom storm gnashed at the heath
The glowering stars faint evidence
Of it’s vast insipid teeth

This contentious storm it gave no pause
Invading my to my skin
While the naughty eternal bog of night
It spanked and rode the tireless wind 

No lamp, no path, no friend, no name
Lost in that bruised and stunted land
Where no man’s eye could show his tongue
To tell his brain what to comprehend

A single tree? A creeping mouse?
A lizard, or a bird?
Nothing. There was nothing at all
But then I faintly heard 

A gubblin’ and a whistlin’ sound
Running water I was sure
Up to the top of the knob-bed peak
Then down and at its source

A sight that froze my blood in place
And revived a stillborn dream
For there I spied a horse-eyed man,
Asleep beside the stream


His hands a-hoofed
His jacket torn
His mane a greasy heap
A dismal sight in the gathering dusk
A-whinnying in his sleep

An animal humour grown articulate
In the prize of human skin
A monstruous half-bred miracle
Not quite horse, but not yet man. 

A whispered choke, a garbled cough
Rang inside my head
Then a vorpal voice arose
And thus it spoke to me:

Come closer dear man
Come in, come in!
Come join me in my dreams
I’ll teach you how to grow new bones
To split your human’s seams

Upon the forge of earthly hide
Will the legend of your myth
Be smelt until body and soul reflect
The image of their equine smith

 Ten times the size will your coil command
Ten leagues from brow to hoof
with a thunderous yawp to match the force

Fame triumphant, the glory yours
Come wallow and lie with me

Such words did dream the horse-eyed man
Asleep beside the stream 

I cannot tell how long I stood
Whether ‘twas dusk or dawn
But when at last my mind unfroze
The horse-eyed man was gone

In his place a single egg
Within a fiery ring
The ashes of his horse-ish hair
A’ smolderin’ in the wind

When suddenly I swooned in black
I dropped to knobbled knee
Driven to crawl upon all fours
Up to the gubblin’ stream

And in that brackish mirror a watery twin arose now, from the deep
My hands were hoofed
My jacket torn
My mane the greasy heap!
And with a low & mournful wail
I whinnied off, to fitful sleep

Where out upon the charred morass
Where the creeping tendrils lie
Across that sullen plain I scuppered
Into the bestial gloam…