We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.
/

about

11. BLEACHING BONES (Live)
I was noodling around on the banjo one day, when the chord progression for this song started to find itself under my fingers. I kept working at it, building a verse structure and a bridge until the chord progressions in them felt natural and inevitable. At that point I could hear a melody in my mind. Then I thought, “I’d better make up some words for this, otherwise, I’m going to forget it.” (I think the majority of the songs I have written have a similar genesis – I stumble upon the music and add a quick draft of words so that I can remember it. And then I refine those words until they become a song.) Usually, I just start improvising, and some stream of consciousness words emerge unbidden that ultimately turn into a song. I rarely start with any preconceived idea, or topic, or theme – something just finds its way out of my subconscious, and only afterwards do I realize what is was that I was writing about. But this time, nothing was coming out – no words at all. So, once again, I looked to Rosemary for help. I snagged her as she was coming down the stairs, and I said, “Listen to this chord progression and tell me if it makes you think of anything – any image at all.” Then I played it for her, and she immediately said, “A woman riding on horseback across the desert being pursued by many men.” And there was the song! I just concentrated on the sound of the words and on the meter, and the story itself emerged as though it had already been written before I had begun.

lyrics

11. BLEACHING BONES
By Marc Nerenberg
Bleaching bones lay in the desert. The wind covered them with sand.
The sun was at its zenith in the sky.
He’d set out to find a treasure, But he did not understand
That he would only find this lonely place to die.
She rode by on horseback. She saw a hat blown by the breeze
With a snake-shaped silver buckle on its brim.
She sat straight up in the saddle, though she felt weak in the knees.
She realized those bones belonged to him

Her hair and eyes were black. Her beauty was renowned.
She was a striking figure against the sky.
She reached the place where they would meet to share what they had found.
Since there was nothing there to share, she rode on by.


She picked up the pace at dusk. She knew that close behind
There was more than one pursuer on her trail.
She rode relentlessly all night, pressing on, before they’d find
Those bones of the man she’d sprung from jail.
Ride like the wind. Ride on.
Disappear before you can be found.
Keep on moving. Keep on pressing on.
Don’t look back. Never turn around.

Her saddlebags held silver. She wore three diamonds on each ear.
She knew where that desert treasure had been lost.
Oh, she may return some day to find it. But for now she shed a tear
For that lover that some dog had double-crossed.
While she rode with grace and beauty, her fathomless dark eyes
Were windows on the pain she felt within.
She rode up into the mountains. But as the sun began to rise,
Those men upon her trail were closing in.
Ride like the wind. Ride on.
Disappear before you can be found.
Keep on moving. Keep on keeping on.
Don’t look back. Never turn around.

Her trail uphill was narrow. Her horse found it too steep.
He tripped and tumbled; as he rolled he split his head.
She limped and climbed that hill on foot, with as much silver as she could keep.
Like her lover, now her horse just lay there dead.
The men who chased her nearly caught her. But she remained unseen.
She blended in among her people on that hill.
To outsiders, she was invisible, unless she wanted to be seen.
For all they know, she could be running still.

Many a winter’s turned to summer, and turned her old and grey.
Now she wears a silver bracelet on her wrist,
That’s shaped like a snake coiled ‘round it, and sometimes she will say,
That she wears it to remember what she’s missed.
Those bones out in the desert, they still lie bleaching in the sun.
She still rides out to see them when she can.
To remember how she lost him, when they both were on the run.
Oh, she’d give back all her silver for her man.

credits

from DELIA'S GONE: Murder Ballads & Other Songs of Love & Death, released July 15, 2019
Words and music by Marc Nerenberg

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Marc Nerenberg image

Marc Nerenberg Montreal, Québec

Marc Nerenberg is a veteran Montreal folksinger who plays old time banjo styles and blues harmonica. He has a narrative- centric repertoire, recounting stories in song and wrapping stories around songs. You may “be drawn in by a combination of Marc’s mastery of traditional banjo styles, his idiosyncratic singing, and [his] richly detailed ballads.” (Mike Regenstreif – Folk Roots/Folk Branches 2019) ... more

contact / help

Contact Marc Nerenberg

Streaming and
Download help

Report this track or account

If you like Marc Nerenberg, you may also like:

Bandcamp Daily  your guide to the world of Bandcamp

On Bandcamp Radio

Featuring interviews with LA music scene pillar Kamasi Washington, and new London-based duo Mrcy.

listen now