Not being an anthropologist, I am not sure that our prehistoric ancestors spoke French.  Still, all I will say is plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose . 

Once again I am joined by Ron Stewart (now one-fifth of the legendary bluegrass band The Seldom Scene.)  I wish I could play a single instrument even half as well as Ron can play four!  Be prepared to hear some outstanding bluegrass. 

© 2007 Steven E. Cutts
recorded August 2014, mixed by Jim Robeson 

Steve, lead and harmony vocals 
Ron Stewart, banjo 
R. Stewart,  fiddle 
Stewart, Ron, guitar 
that Stewart guy, mandolin 
Jim Robeson, bass and harmony vocal 


Caveman Jack stands stretching in the entrance to his cave; 

He watches as the sun comes up -- gonna be a busy day. 

He feels a little groggy -- didn't sleep so well last night. 

There's a lot he should accomplish while it's warm and it is light. 

There's food to hunt and gather -- the everyday routine -- 

But the game and roots and berries lately've been a little lean. 

  

Caveman Jack -- there's a lot that's on his mind. 

Caveman Jack -- he wishes he had time 

For the finer things in life -- a vacation from the grind 

Of getting through another day alive.  Caveman Jack. 

  

His wife wants him to carve more room; she says they need the space, 

But the neighbors are remodeling, and she's just keeping pace. 

He'd rather touch up all his paintings of the antelope and deer 

That got damaged when the cave walls sprung those mammoth leaks last year. 

And the cave is always drafty; too much heat escapes; 

He could save on firewood if he'd only insulate. 

  

Jack has learned that he can always count upon his son 

To disappear whenever there is work to be done. 

He worries about his daughter; she is fifteen summers old; 

The boyfriend who keeps coming 'round's so Neanderthal. 

  

Jack's leaders say they should attack the tribe that lives nearby, 

though when he asks, his leaders cannot give a reason why. 

The last time there was fighting, it didn't go so well; 

A lot of folks got hurt, but not much changed that he could tell. 

Jack asks himself this question as he contemplates the dawn: 

"Why can't we all just get along?"