A Tribute To Kinky Friedman

In the Seventies, I was a fan of Kinky Friedman and the Texas Jewboys. With a band name like that, what’s not to like?

Last year, when I read Kinky’s obituary, I found myself reflecting on this outlandish Jewish-American singer, songwriter, and satirist. I even remembered the lyrics to one of his most powerful songs: Ride ’Em Jewboy. That haunting ballad blended the swagger of cowboy life with a mournful tribute to six million yellow-star-wearing Holocaust victims—going up in smoke.

I loved that Kinky sang to the victims. He would always ride with them.

Much like I love Townes Van Zandt’s ballads, Ride ’Em Jewboy struck a deep chord in me. Here, for your consideration, are some of its unforgettable lyrics:

Ride, ride ’em Jewboy,
Ride ’em all around the old corral.
I’m, I’m with you boy,
If I’ve got to ride six million miles.

Now the smokes from camps are rising,
See the helpless creatures on their way.
Hey, old pal, ain’t it surprising
How far you can go before you stay.

Don’t you let the morning blind ya,
When on your sleeve you wore the yeller star.
Old memories still live behind ya,
Can’t you see by your outfit who you are?

So, what’s my takeaway from Ride ’Em Jewboy?

It’s this: The memories of the Holocaust live behind us. And yet, we’re still often isolated, still persecuted, still searching for a sense of belonging in the modern world. But like the cowboy Kinky sang about, we keep moving on—persevering, thriving, and never forgetting who we are.