Absent Parties

from by Jared Grabb Among Thieves

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lyrics

La Ville de Maillet at the base of the bluff:
we’ve made our home in a wilderness.
Amongst the natives, we made French land,
which then became British, then American.
This feels wrong. It feels wrong. They’re absent parties.
This feels wrong. It feels wrong.

And, we are traders, yes, by trade.
The Potawatomi know our names.
So, when word comes they’ve lost Dearborn,
natives stand British and we American.
This feels wrong. It feels wrong. They’re absent parties.
This feels wrong. It feels wrong. Our war cannot be won.

Returning south, we see the ships:
American soldiers out for vengeance.
But, Chief Black Partridge has scouts.
Finding his village, you could hear the shouts,
“This feels wrong. It feels wrong. They’re absent parties.
This feels wrong. It feels wrong.
This feels wrong. It feels wrong. They’re absent parties.
This feels wrong. It feels wrong. The tribe is gone.”

In the distance, smoke from the flames.
Scattered corpses dot the Plaines.
American soldiers sleep docked at Maillet.
Tense and conflicted, in our homes we lay.
This feels wrong. It feels wrong.
This feels wrong. It feels wrong.
This feels wrong. It feels wrong.
We’re being fired upon!
Bullets rain. A late night raid. Fires blaze. They say we’ll get no sympathy.
Through debris, children scream, women flee. In chains we drift to St. Louis.

credits

from Among Thieves, released June 5, 2020

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Jared Grabb Peoria, Illinois

Jared Grabb's earnest brand of indie/Americana creates low-key anthems for all working class dreamers.

Based out of Peoria, Illinois.

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