Tom Heany
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Down on Route 9A

This is one of the few songs I've written in which the main character really exists. You can find him on Route 9A in Elmsford, New York, right by the off-ramp from Route 287. He's outside a gas station, not a tire store as the song claims. He's twenty feet tall and was built by International Fiberglass, probably in the 1960s. There's a little more information about him on a website called Roadside Architecture (http://www.roadarch.com/giants/ifbunyans3.html).



Down on Route 9A - Tom Heany (c) 2017

There's a big old statue of a lumberjack
Down on Route 9A.
20 feet tall, and he's got no arms
But he's always smiling anyway.
49 years he's standing there
Every night and day.
Whatcha gonna do, Mr. No-arms-man
If a giant cowgirl steals your heart away?
How you gonna hold her close, my friend?
How you gonna hold her chair?
How you gonna cop a feel, big fella?
How you gonna stroke her hair?
How you gonna ease her aching heart, wipe her tears away?
How you gonna take her dancing, son, down on Route 9A?

He stands outside a tire store.
There's a kid down by his feet.
Waiting for a bus with a girl on board - 
She's way too tall, but awful sweet.
Not a date, or anything.
Just hanging out for the day.
Don't look now, Mr. Short-pants boy
But a giant cowgirl stole your heart away.
Don't you want to hold her hand, my friend?
Don't you want to to touch her hair?
Don't know much about copping feels,
Don't know much about holding chairs.
Don't know much about anything.
Don't have much to say.
How you gonna take her dancing, son,
Down on Route 9A?

  I think his arms are really there, they're just invisible
  Only way to see them is to see what they can do.
  They can reach me way across the city.
  Make me feel like a tough guy with a smile
  Take that boy and straighten out his shoulders
  Make him feel like a man for a while
  They can catch a dancing cowgirl by her dainty giant hand
  Lead her to a quiet corner of the dance hall
  Wrap her fiberglass waist in their invisible embrace
  Maybe cop that feel after all.

The boy looks up at the lumberjack
And the lumberjack stares him down.
The girl could get there any time
And the boy feels like rodeo clown.
He knows he has to to talk to her,
But he can't think where to start.
Then he feels a giant hand reach out
And he hears a deep voice rumble in his heart.
“Yes, you are a knucklehead.
But smart and funny and kind.
Just relax and be yourself - 
That's the guy she wants to find.
All the rest, forget about.
Let her lead the way. 
Then you can take her dancing, son,
Down on Route 9A.”

  I think his arms are really there, but they're invisible.
  Only way to see them is to see what they can do.
  They can reach me way across the decades.
  Make me feel like a kid without a clue.
  Back before he understood what an awful lot of good
  A talk with a lumberjack can do.
  Make me catch my favorite cowgirl by her sweet familiar hand
  Lead her to a quiet corner of the dance floor.
  Make me whisper in her ear, “Hey, let's get on out of here,
  Take a walk down by the tire store.”

There's a big old statue of a lumberjack
Down on Route 9A
Not as tall as he used to be
Doesn't have a lot to say.
49 years he's waiting there
Stuck by the side of the road.
Lonely days, my no-arm-friend,
I guess that giant cowgirl never showed.
I go down to visit with him
Every now and then.
Pair of former knuckleheads,
Pair of former ladies' men.
Guys who fall in love with girls who
Dance the night away.
Waiting for a city bus
Down on Route 9A.
Down on Route 9A, boys, down on Route 9A.
Waiting for a city bus
Down on Route 9A. 

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