I’d been noodling on my tenor guitar a month ago, and woke up last night realizing that this was a banjo song. Expanded and extended and made good use of the pouring rain on the lake to add color.
A friend offered to learn this if I’d provide the notes. This is what I’ve got. I don’t really do music notation.
cdc gag de
cdc gag de
g d
g d
g d d d e d c a g
cdc gag de
cdc gag de
g d
g d
g d d d e d c a c
c a
a c d e d c a g
g a c d c a c d
g a c d c a c c
There was a whole story in my head when I wrote the chorus and a few snippets about a year ago. I guess it’s gone, I don’t know.
I love The Man from Snowy River. In one scene, Jim says to one of his mates, “You’re welcome at my fire any time.” Seemed like a real cowboy way of expressing your respect for someone.
storyteller
he had the kind of a face most folks wouldn’t even notice
they weren’t noticing now as he stood there in the blazing sun
made to walk by, but he caught my eye
and said “I could tell quite a tale, if you’d just buy me one.”
we stepped inside and I saw all the usual faces
the lonely, the losers, the lost, and me
he sipped at his ale and he told tale upon tale
and he took me to places I never thought I would see
“it’s a great big world, under a great big sky
a man can get lost, be hard to find”
with a look in his eye that made me hope it was true, he said
“You’re welcome at my fire any time”
couldn’t tell if he was looking at me or through me
and since he started talking, I hadn’t said a word
as we sat in that booth I learned a lot of truth
and he told me every story I’d ever heard
“it’s a great big world, under a great big sky
a man can get lost, be hard to find”
with a look in his eye that made me think it was true, he said
“You’re welcome at my fire any time”
he told stories that sounded like long lost letters from home
after while I wasn’t sure if they were about him or me
all the places I’d been he took me there again
then he leaned in and tapped me on the knee
“it’s a great big world, under a great big sky
a man can get lost, be hard to find”
with a look in his eye that made me know it was true, he said
“You’re welcome at my fire any time”
Only piece of bad advice my father ever gave me was that I couldn’t make a living playing with computers. “They call it work for a reason,” he said.
I find it interesting that the world is slowly realizing that you can do something you love and still pay the bills.
he took a job at the mill and worked all his life
because he had to take care of his kids and his wife
he never told ’em about the dreams he didn’t pursue
put in fifty years in a place that he hated
he never complained of the time that he’d waited
to finish the things that he’d always wanted to do
he took a factory job and worked all his days
it pays the bills all right but at night he prays
for a better life for the son who doesn’t fit in
he wanted to travel and see the whole world
but he stays at the job for his boy and his girl
and a wife who just wishes that he knew how to begin
some folks will never care what you do
but then it’s not their job to believe in you
you’ve got to do what you do
for the joy of getting it done
they say the tall poppy gets cut down to size
you’ll never get far believing those lies
it takes a tall poppy
to show the short poppies the sun
“we worked all our lives, and you’ll do the same
they call it work for a reason, it isn’t a game”
that’s what his father said the day his grandfather died
but he couldn’t fit into the box that they’d made
he wanted more than they’d earned for the dues that they’d paid
and he just couldn’t imagine a life where he never tried
some folks will never like what you do
but then it’s not their job to believe in you
you’ve got to do what you do
for the joy of getting it done
they say the tall poppy gets cut down to size
I lived my whole life believing those lies
it takes a tall poppy
to show the short poppies the sun
I played the chords for Best Beloved and she said “It sounds like an invitation.”
I’ve had my eye on you for a while
just thinking of you makes me smile
I wonder if you’d like to go for a walk
or maybe just sit here and talk
you seem sort of quiet or maybe you’re shy
your secretive upside down smile caught my eye
let’s go for some coffee or chocolate or tea
or maybe you don’t notice me
maybe you’re thinking of somebody who
means more than a little to you
maybe the smile is a memory
that has nothing to do with me
the voices around us mean nothing to me
as long as the crowd lets me see
that quizzical smile and faraway eyes
that fill me with mad butterflies
maybe you keep all your secrets inside
with no one for you to confide
maybe the smile is hiding the fears
you’ve hidden from all of these years
the mad butterflies bring you over my way
the secretive smile makes you say
“I wonder if you’d like to go for a walk
or maybe just sit here and talk”
The foamy salty sea has an attraction
For vagabonds and every sort of rogue
Whose only thought’s their selfish satisfaction
‘mongst pirates, bad manners are in vogue
But I’m here to tell the tale of the exception
About a man with manners through and through
He’d not resort to threats or vile deception
The politest pirate, Paddy McEldoo
(chorus)
He’d the fiercest crew the seas have ever seen,
And neatly piled doubloons down in the hold
He’d shout to quaking captains frightened green,
“If you’d be so good enough
Please give us all your gold”
His crew all thought him mad as a hatter
When he told them of his childhood raison d’être
His mother’s voice say’ng “Paddy, manners matter,
Manners get what rudeness doesn’t get ya”
(chorus)
Now it saddens me to have to tell you how
The politest pirate met his Waterloo
A crafty shipping merchant knew that now
’twas time to emulate the wise Sun Tzu
When Paddy spoke so mannerly once more
And let the merchant know what he should do
This crafty captain took the art of war
Saying “Please sir, I insist—after you!”
(a sigh, then, spoken)
“Neatly, men; neatly! A place for every doubloon, and every doubloon in its place.”
