Jackhammer John was a jackhammer man,
Born with a jackhammer in his hand.
Lord, Lord And he had them jackhammer blues.
I got them jackhammer blues.
I built your roads and buildings too,
And I'm gonna build a damn or two.
Lord, Lord, well I had them jackhammer blues.
I got them jackhammer blues.
I was borned in Portland town,
Built every port from Alasky down;
Lord, Lord, well I got them jackhammer blues.
I got them jackhammer blues.
Built your bridges, dug your mines,
Been in jail a thousand times.
Lord, Lord, well I got them jackhammer blues.
I got them jackhammer blues.
Jackhammer, jackhammer, where ya been?
Been out a-chasin' them gals again;
Lord, Lord, well I got them jackhammer blues.
I got them jackhammer blues.
Jackhammer man from a jackhammer town,
I can hammer till the sun goes down,
Lord, Lord, well I got them jackhammer blues.
I got them jackhammer blues.
I hammered on the boulder, hammered on the butte,
Columbia River on a five-mile chute;
Lord, Lord, well I got them jackhammer blues.
I got them jackhammer blues.
Workin' on the Bonneville, hammered all night
A-tryin' to bring the people some electric light,
Lord, Lord, well I got them jackhammer blues.
I got them jackhammer blues.
I hammered on Bonneville, Coulee too,
Always broke when my job was through,
Lord, Lord, well I got them jackhammer blues.
I got them jackhammer blues.
I hammered on the river from sun to sun,
Fifteen million salmon run;
Lord, Lord, well I got them jackhammer blues.
I got them jackhammer blues.
I hammered in the rain, I hammered in the dust,
I hammered in the best and I hammered in the worst;
Lord, Lord, well I got them jackhammer blues.
I got them jackhammer blues.
I got a jackhammer gal just as sweet as pie,
And I'm a-gonna hammer till the day I die,
Lord, Lord, well I got them jackhammer blues.
I got them jackhammer blues.
Pasión Vega presenta en concierto su nuevo disco Pasión Almodóvar con una selección de canciones que forman parte del universo cinematográfico del director manchego Pedro Almodóvar.
Abril de 2026. Una visita a Cuenca. La ciudad alta parece casi inalcanzable pero se va abriendo al paso del caminante y se descubre a pinceladas, se avanza lentamente con atención a los detalles, te va envolviendo su generosa ofrenda de ocres, una esencia dulce de calles antiguas, escenario de historias de vida que fueron y van arriba y abajo. Cuenca, refugio de miradas eternas que en sus horizontes van quedando guardadas, también en nuestra memoria. Cuenca, la de la piel quebrada por hoces y ríos, la que celebró en el siglo XX su poeta Federico Muelas, la que envejece y revive en el XXI y cada día.