Made us late for a drive to Tucson because this came to me all at once. I was going to write a song on the 2 1/2 hour drive. Ha. Now I’ll write another one on the drive.
Lyrics
I’m tired, but I don’t want to sleep
One more thing I need to do
Almost done
It’s something for someone
Only take a minute or two
I’m tired but I don’t think I can sleep
Rather play with my friends than shut my eyes
It’s just a song
It won’t take long
We’ll sing a while and then say our goodbyes
I’m so tired, might be time to go
There’s one more thing I have to say
I look at you
You’re tired too
So I love you, now I’ll be on my way
Best Beloved and I have known each other 45 years. When we were young, she knew I was the one for her. I was not so wise. We started our life together 25 years later than we could have.
Lyrics
Pretty young girl in a flower print dress
Said “She’s not the one for you
She’ll never love you the way that I can
She won’t make your dreams come true”
A handsome young man knew the truth of her words
Set about putting things right
Walked away from someone who’d ruin his life
Who let him go without a fight
The pretty young girl in the flower print dress
Found contentment and joy as his wife
She made their home a haven of peace
Shone warm and light in his life
Their children grew in a house filled with love
With their father, so kind and wise
The pretty young girl in the flower print dress
Saw forever in her children’s eyes
The pretty young girl in the flower print dress
And the handsome young man in her heart
Lived happily ever, right to the end
Forever, never apart
A pretty young girl in a flower print dress
Sees a wedding from up on a hill
Thinks about dreams she hoped would come true
And knows that they never will
As we age, sometimes it’s just sad, and other times there’s a wry humor to the nonsense.
Since this year I’m planning on doing 28 tenor guitar songs I thought I should point out that the bass line here is played on the tenor, then dropped 2 octaves. Yeah, I have a Fender bass and play it just fine. This was easier ’cause I’m lazy sometimes.
Lyrics
my body’s a hundred my brain twenty-one
felt my labors had barely begun
not enough time for what’s left to be done
under what’s left of the sun
my body’s a hundred but I don’t complain
I’ve tried it before and there’s nothing to gain
so I keep on smiling in spite of the pain
rather than moaning in vain
my body’s a hundred, life is a chore
even my parts that are missing are sore
I keep having less and I keep needing more
but my ship hasn’t come to the shore
my body’s a hundred if it’s a day
life shuffles on for creatures of clay
I watch it all pass from the bed where I lay
ignoring the smell of decay
my body’s a hundred, now I’ve got to go
the light in the tunnel’s beginning to grow
I think of what’s coming, facing the blow
I believe, but do I know?
We’ve been watching the marvelously witty Britcom “Upstart Crow”, a fictionalized account of the Bard’s early days. I’ve been looking for an excuse to use the phrase “puffling pants” since the first episode. This also gives me leave to include my other favorite word to say, codswallop.
Lyrics
Sir Perry Pufflingpants was a mighty sailing man
Captain of the HMS Codswallop
His heart contained the bravery of eleven men
And perhaps of preening pride a tiny dollop
His 1st mate, and his best mate, who helped to run the ship
Was a working lad named Roger Dodgington
Who was in charge of sailing stuff like how to pull the ropes
And manly things like when to fire the gun
Sir Perry Pufflingpants and Roger Dodgington
Always worked together because it was more fun
They’d sailed together many years, Sir Perry and old Rog
A pair of friends who made a tight old team
The HMS Codswallop was the best ship of the line
But sometimes things aren’t what they seem
Sir Perry Pufflingpants and Roger Dodgington
Have always worked together but some trouble has begun
Sir Perry Pufflingpants, that might sailing bloke
Whose heart contained his bravery plus ten
Secretly believed it was he who ran all things
And he the one revered by all his men
Sir Perry Pufflingpants and Roger Dodgington
Ought to see the same or their friendship is undone
Near the end of one long journey when the grog was running short
The crew began to grumble in complaint
Sir Perry Pufflingpants said they ought to just buck up
And follow his example of restraint
Sir Perry Pufflingpants and Roger Dodgington
Faced a brand new challenge when they didn’t work as one
Now Roger Dodgington, that loyal mate the first
Objected to his captain’s Stoic stance
And when he spoke his mind the men agreed and said
“Let’s haul him down and kick him in the pants!”
Sir Perry Pufflingpants and Roger Dodgington
Could one keep the other from a kicking in the bun?
“Avast there, salty sailors!” cried Roger Dodgington
“There’ll be no kicking, not while I’m still strong.
A side trip to the islands will fill our hold with grog
And keep our heads attached where they belong.”
Sir Perry Pufflingpants and Roger Dodgington
Would they work together? Would it still be fun?
Sir Perry Pufflingpants, that captain so sagacious
Acquiesced, endorsing Roger’s plan
Nodding to his mate he thanked him for his help
And the crew all cheered them both, to a man
Sir Perry Pufflingpants and Roger Dodgington
Always worked together because it was more fun
You’re the dark of night
You steal the sun from the sky
You’re the dark of night
Make the songbirds cry
You’re the dark of night
And I don’t understand why
You told me you loved me
Sweet as a slice of peach pie
You told me you loved me
Intoxicating as rock and rye
You told me you loved me
You knew all along it was a lie
You took my heart
Made me think I could fly
You took my heart
Told me I was your guy
You took my heart
Was just a piece of meat for you to fry
You’re the dark of night
You steal the sun from the sky
You’re the dark of night
Make the songbirds cry
You’re the dark of night
I’ll never understand why
This was meant to be a hopeful happy coming home love song. Turned itself into an “I’d love to stay but you know I’m a traveler” song.
Cm7 0011 Dm7 2233 G
yesterday’s moon sleeps behind the hills far away Cm7#5 0111 Dm7#5 2333 F
I’m chilled in the dark, the sun’s not yet risen today
hungry and tired but no matter, I carry on
around the next turn is the home where you wait with the dawn
these traveling ways are the only life that I know
in spite of the leaving and all the while missing you so
maybe this time I’ll have all I need here with you
and I’ll settle down and we’ll share a sunset or two
tomorrow night’s moon will soon peek over the hill
red setting sun is giving way to night’s chill
it’s warm here with you but I’m hungry to carry on
to see what’s around the next bend beyond the next dawn
to see what’s around the next bend beyond the next dawn
to see what’s around the next bend beyond the next dawn
Finally read the writing book “Writing Down the Bones” and one of her ideas is to write about memory, to just start sentences with “I remember . . . ” and every time you get stuck, start another line with “I remember . . . ” and plow through.
I’ve often wondered what makes our brain choose what goes into retrievable long-term memory, what gets tucked in back to play hide and seek, and what goes away without leaving a trace. I’m having a slight case of longing for the good old days, which I know full well weren’t nearly as good as right now.
Best Beloved was upstairs recording a podcast so I went out in the garage and sat in the back seat of my Juke to record this so I wouldn’t disturb her. You may want to note that the back seat of a tiny car is no place to play guitar, even a tenor.
Lyrics
I remember my dad turning dirt with a shovel
to put in a garden out back
I remember the grass as the yard tumbled down to the lake
I remember the fish on Saturday night
catch and eat and repeat
and the sound of winter geese flying south as I lay awake
I remember the waves kept knocking me down
and I never had the nerve to surf
I remember the peace of the bay on the other side
I remember bonfires at night
and roasting whatever we had on a stick
falling asleep on the deck on the incoming tide
I didn’t know then what would stick
what my mind would keep
the pictures I’d take
what went deep
I remember the smallest things from then
What will I remember from now?
I want to choose the memories
but I don’t know how
I remember the house on the beach was so cold
it was warmer when I went outside
I remember I didn’t go home when that tiny trailer sold
I remember the red motorcycle and a tiny grey car
and the cork tile roof of my bug
and my friend Ross and all the goofy jokes he told
I didn’t know then what would stick
what my mind would keep
the pictures I’d take
what went deep
I remember the smallest things from then
What will I remember from now?
I want to choose the memories
but I don’t know how
the apple tree, an old grey barn
piece of glass stuck in my foot
afraid because the bike was too big even though I was 8
the piano and the car we left behind
the stars in the mountains
and always wanting something and always being told I had to wait
I didn’t know then what would stick
what my mind would keep
the pictures I’d take
what went deep
I remember the smallest things from then
What will I remember from now?
I want to choose the memories
but I don’t know how
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”
