| | Black Peter Lyrics Artist(Band):Grateful Dead
I was laying in my bed and dying. Annie Bonneau from St. Angel say the weather down there so fine. Just then the wind came squalling through the dark, But who can the weather command? Just want to have a little peace to die, And a friend or two I love at hand. Fever roll up to a hundred and five. Roll on up, gonna roll back down. One more day I find myself alive, Tomorrow maybe go beneath the ground. See here how everything led up to this day, And it's just like any other day that's ever been. Sun going up and then the sun going down. Shine through my window and my friends they come around, Come around, come around. The people might know, but the people don't care, That a man can be as poor as me. Take a look at poor Peter, he's lying in pain, Now let's come run and see, run and see, Run and see, run, run and see, and see. If you find some error in Black Peter Lyrics, would you please submit your corrections to me? Thank You. Review about Black Peter deeper still | Reviewer: tasty doubles | 4/20/09 I actually think it runs even deeper than that. We, envision on our deathbed what it might be like. Even when we are near our deaths, we still don't know what it is to die. The subtle ruminations of life, and remeniscences of our lives pass before our eyes. At the point of our death we imagine what one might think. When I imagine what friends of mine went through during their death, a part of me dies. It is a truly magical experience. Then a part of me feels lifted, as if my freind, who has just died, has been freed from his shackles of this world. But, I can only imagine, that in thier mind, perhaps they might, at the last moment cling to this world, to the simple experiences of a sentient tactile world filled with friends, winds, weather, smells and all of it. The verses for me carry out an otherworldly imagining of the most amazing reality. "I'm dying, and I just want to get a few of my closest friends around..." In thinking about my friends while on my deathbed, I would put myself in thier shoes. Maybe they come around. Maybe not, in this work a day world. But as I am dying, and after I have died, my friends would feel a loss and a wish they had run more quickly to be there, to be there to comfort me. I, dying, would feel them wishing they could be with me, and feel them running to me, and wish they could only run faster. For all I have done to help others. For all I have done to tread on others feet, it all susses up for the big finale. Lord I love this song!! Who Was BP? | Reviewer: Soilsoul | 4/2/09 Black Peter is St. Nick's assistant who will replace the carrots and hay from your shoes with candy if you've been good. But,the reindeer go hungry at the houses of bad children. He was replaced by elves. Black Pete began to be included in the mythology of Christmas during the 15th century occupation of Norway by Spaniards. So, he was initially depicted as dark complected and sometimes as a pirate. Would love to hear this at LaFitte's tavern in New Orleans!... robert plant hunter | Reviewer: eiko malika | 3/5/09 the song was written in Port Slovakia, how truth your friends, companions and life experience sometimes vary invariably, one not always in step with the other. wither respect for serio, and Donavan...and Jack Kerouc, King of the place, Robert Pant Hunter is both and in this case, possibly just the name holder from Ukraine because of the tetious fame and delemma of little port Slova. with love....Eiko Malika W.E.M. re: Tim's analysis of Black Peter | Reviewer: Rhonda | 7/4/08 I think Tim wrote a lovely and thoughtful analysis of Black Peter. I think, however, that the point of view changes not at the beginning of the last stanza, but at the third line of it. I never imagined Peter as a loser, a "wharf rat", but that's just my interpretation: as a granddaughter on both sides of generational poverty, I have always envisioned Peter as either a coal miner or poor, Depression-era surviving farmer / worker, but not a hobo or beggar; in fact, I thought he might be called "black" Peter either because of the fact that he is a coal miner OR because of his bad luck. As for the "let's" (let us) come run and see Peter, I saw those called "us" as his equals / peers who had struggled to survive as hard as he did, and who also would face the same type of death: inevitable, cold, yet comforted by those who knew and understood his life. So, us, I interpret, is all of us, whether we be coal miners, itinerants, bankers, teachers, doctors, musicians, beggars, or CEOs. I'm a Dead fan, yes, but this song was one that has always spoken to me (to use a cliche); I love all their music, but have always enjoyed even more their exploration of other types of music than their more "mainstream" type (if you can call any but a handful of their songs "mainstream"). That said, at my mother's deathbed, this music and these lines came to me clearer than anything except my grief: "See here how everything lead up to this day, / And it's just like any other day that's ever been." Her temperature had been rolling up and down; she was in a coma; I saw how everything she'd ever said or done just culminated in her last breaths --- just like they will for all of us. Great song; great analysis by Tim. I like looking at it from Tim's viewpoint of Peter as a new one. black peter/two narrators | Reviewer: Tim | 7/15/07 Garcia and Hunter were not just old folkies, but had literary sensibility and the subtlety of their songs sometimes only become apparent after the passage of time. Black Peter, which I guess is circa 1970 or so, first appeared on Working Man’s Dead, a record I had heard since I was a kid, via my older brothers. I had seen the dead several times, and I don’t remember them ever playing it and it was simply not a stand out for me on the original LP. On a lark, I picked up Stepping out with the grateful dead, England 72. I felt like hearing some new music and this was at a good price and quite frankly, I have never felt ripped off when I picked up these releases of previously unreleased live dead. Anyway, a truly stellar version of this song I never thought much about was on it and not only did it blow me away, with the band just grooving on the loopy, infectious riff and that reedy Garcia vocal nailing it, but I got the subtle twist at the end of the song. The Dead of course may always be more famous for those hippie anthems, like Truckin or Eyes of the World. which of course , are great but they also had this weird strain of story songs set in some mythical past and deal with mortality and fate. Black Peter is one of those. The initial narrator is Black Peter, who is on his death bed, thinking about his friends, and it seems Annie Bonneau is particularly close and St Angel is some sort of home. All of my friends come to see me last night, I was laying in my bed and dying. Annie Bonneau from St. Angel say the weather down there so fine. Still on his death bed, the second stanza has their interesting couplet about a draft and a thought about weather. This shows a poor environment, a poor house, old peoples home. This is a loser, a wharf rat guy, at the end of his life, but we find a revelation as well—who can the weather command echoes the Christian sentiment to be in this world not of this world, and Peter wishes for simple things, peace of mind, and to be with friends. Just then the wind came squalling through the dark, But who can the weather command? Just want to have a little peace to die, And a friend or two I love at hand. The next stanza, Pete is resigned to his fate, neither sad or happy and not even indifferent either, just accepting that he will be beneath the ground soon. Fever roll up to a hundred and five. Roll on up, gonna roll back down. One more day I find myself alive, Tomorrow maybe go beneath the ground. The last we hear of Pete, having accepted his death, ruminates on a will of god we are all in the same skin. The sun comes up, goes down and even though it is the day he is to die, it is just like any other day, cause life goes on. It’s one of those notions that is both heavy and trite and is seen in countless works. But, here it is especially touching. Pete is thinking about his friends. What is life but the people we make friends with. That sort of emphasis shows a righteous, good soul. An aspiration we all should have. Friends are more important than possessions or money and on your death bed you think about your friends and not about the stuff you have, or don’t have (in Pete’s case). The dying wish of seeing your friends one more time is a dying wish everyone with a heart aspires to, and it appears for Pete, it is coming true. See here how everything led up to this day, And it's just like any other day that's ever been. Sun going up and then the sun going down. Shine through my window and my friends they come around, Come around, come around. But, in actuality, who else would live in a place with drafts so bad wind squalls in? The last stanza the narrator is not Black Peter, it is somebody else, poor, but bitter about life and without friends The people might know, but the people don't care, That a man can be as poor as me. He blames being poor at his lack of friends or companions or love in his life. Like Peter, he is alone. But Peter is there. Take a look at poor Peter, he's lying in pain, Now let's come run and see, run and see, Run and see, run, run and see, and see Pete is dying, we know why he is in pain. Deathbed. But Pete is seeing friends at his death bed, but in reality it’s this other guy, the bitter guy and probably others in this squalid rooming house, (let’s, let us). Other losers. Other folks who are poor and desperate. Pete is seeing them as his friends, remembering that letter from Anne, remembering his friends as the most important thing in life, while in reality, those who cannot make friends witness his death, and likely, let him die. I always thought it was just another lovable loser Hunter lyric, where death had a more prominent thematic role. No, instead Hunter changes narrator, ala Faulkner, and challenges the listener to be astute enough to understand. Took me a quarter century to become that astute I guess. It’s a bitter sweet song, tragic and beautiful. We have to hope to be like Black Peter—to care about making and keeping friends, understanding that friends are one of the most precious things life has to offer and what we will miss the most when life passes from us, even when the truth is that we’re alone, discarded by society and surrounded by miserable creeps who just want to spectate on the suffering and death of another. 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