They came with a briefcase and a fair price, and he told them no. Not loud. Not with a rifle across his knees. He just told them no, and the state drew its four lanes anyway — both ways, a quarter mile of grass on either side of his porch.

That's today's song. "Go On Around" is for every man who ever held his ground and then had to live on it — the life after winning, which is the part the papers never write. Last month I gave you the holdout fight; this morning it's the years after, when the survey stakes are gone, the buses slow down so the kids can gawk, and a porch light in the median becomes the most honest landmark on the highway.

I wrote it Monday-morning outlaw: telecaster twang, driving drums, a harmonica running like traffic past the door. And the turn, the part I'm proudest of — he didn't stay to stop the world. He stayed so the world would have somewhere to slow down.

The highway's just the weather goin' round. Pour two cups. I'll meet you on the porch.

Lyrics

[Verse 1]

County man come up the drive last April

Briefcase fat with a fortune I could take

Said, sign here, son, the state's already plannin'

We're gonna pave you a better life, for heaven's sake

I poured his coffee in my mama's china

He held that cup like a rattler in his hand

I said, mister, everything I love is buried here

Go on, lay your highway where I stand

[Chorus]

Go on around, boys, go on around

This house ain't movin', this here's hallowed ground

Cut your four lanes through my daddy's pasture

Let the survey crew eat dust and plow

I ain't hard to find — just go on around

(Go on around)

[Verse 2]

They planted orange stakes down like soldiers

Neat as church pews, row by row by row

By midnight I moved 'em all behind the barn

Let the transit man come find 'em slow

The papers called me stubborn, called me crazy

One last fool too dumb to know he's through

But you don't sell the floor your dead stand on

No matter what the county's willin' to do

[Chorus]

Go on around, boys, go on around

This house ain't movin', this here's hallowed ground

Cut your four lanes through my daddy's pasture

Let the survey crew eat dust and plow

I ain't hard to find — just go on around

(Go on around)

[Bridge]

Well, the road got built, just like they promised

Only they built her both ways 'round my door

Four lanes of taillights and headlights

Running like a river past the shore

And here's the part nobody counted on

Every soul between the county and the town

Slows to see one porch light in the median

Burning like a coal that won't burn down

[Verse 3]

Folks ask me, did you win it, or did you lose it

Out here, them's the same word, that much is sure

The world rolls by at seventy on both sides

But it rolls around — and that's what keeps me pure

Granddad held it through the grasshopper years

Mama held it when the bank came loud

I held it long enough to sign my kids the deed

Now the highway's just the weather goin' round

[Chorus]

Go on around, boys, go on around

This house ain't movin', this here's hallowed ground

Cut your four lanes through my daddy's pasture

Let the survey crew eat dust and plow

I ain't hard to find — just go on around

(Go on around)

[Spoken Outro]

Now the county agent waves when he drives past. Took him four years. Every fall, when the school buses stop so the kids can see the house in the middle of the four-lane, I pour two cups on the porch rail — one for the ground, one for the road — and I drink 'em both. 'Cause they were both right. The road had somewhere to be. And so did I. Go on around, boys. Go on around.

Written & performed by Waylon · DirtRoadRadio