Songs and Such

Last evening, the boys and I were all down at the local saloon talking about the world as a whole, and since we seemed to have a shortage of women present, the conversation naturally turned in that direction. The piano man was playing away on some old Don Williams tunes and we started musing on why more women didn't join us every evening. Much of my career was spent watching people interact in the world of smoke and neon. There were all kinds represented in the world of the night people, but some just seemed to be ordinary folks searching hard for someone to love. Many were ladies who showed evidence that life had not been kind to them. They always seemed be drawn to guys with a big "L" tattooed on their foreheads. I was always tempted to break cover and go over and ask them if they knew what that tattoo meant. Instead I wrote a song back in the early eighties that describes the scene and allows for a little advice to be given. It would probably be banned today because of my repeated use of the term "Pretty Lady". I always thought Willie could probably do a good job singing it.

PRETTY LADY

The dreams she had are fading
And her love is slowly jading
For her heart she freely gave with no return
Now her smile hides her sorrow
And her soul longs for tomorrow
When perhaps she’ll find a love that will be true

Pretty lady, pretty lady I sing this song for you
For I know your heart is aching for a love that will be true
And with time will help to heal the wounds
From the loves that you once knew
Pretty lady, pretty lady I sing this song for you.

But with uncontrolled desire
This lady plays with fire
Knowing full well that someday she will get burned
Oh the lady needs a lover
Who will put no one above her
And will love her like no one has done before.

Pretty lady, pretty lady I sing this song for you
Seek an uncontested lover who will pledge his love to you
If he cannot now be faithful, he will not be true to you.
Pretty lady, pretty lady don’t break your heart in two.

The time to stop talking is when the other person nods his head affirmatively but says nothing. - Henry S. Haskins

Edible Mammals

I found this picture on the web the other day, apparently from L.A., and it put me in mind of day six of my diet. Anything with edible meat on it had my attention yesterday. During the day I went to the back yard to practice my stalking skills on the Anole lizards living in my flower beds. However, they were spared when I got a call from a friend who said he was cooking fajitas and wanted us to come over for supper. I was limited to meat and tomatoes, but I don't think they ever tasted better. Today and tomorrow are the last days of the diet, and are designed to slowly move participants back to normal (but restrained) eating habits. I calculated my weight loss at around nine pounds yesterday. I am going to buy a thermal cover for the pool today to prevent night time heat loss. This should mean a return to the water in a week or so. I know why hippos enjoy lolling in the water all day. They look cute, but are in the group of cute animals you want to avoid when paddling in a fiberglass canoe. Especially if they've been dieting.






ARTIST: Richard Thompson TITLE:

1952 Vincent Black Lightning

(Selected verses)


Said Red Molly to James that's a fine motorbike
A girl could feel special on any such like
Said James to Red Molly, well my hat's off to you
It's a Vincent Black Lightning, 1952
And I've seen you at the corners and cafes it seems
Red hair and black leather, my favorite color scheme

And he pulled her on behind
And down to Box Hill they did ride.
Says James, in my opinion, there's nothing in this world
Beats a 52 Vincent and a red headed girl.


I was put in the country mood once again after Beth blogged on Lacy J's song "Sixteenth Avenue" yesterday. I also found a picture of a 1952 Vincent motorcycle engine and it put me in mind of a bluegrass song "1952 Vincent Black Lightning". The Del McCoury Band did a nice job on this one. Del has a high tenor voice and delivers a good rendition of this sad story. I may even pull out my Martin and give it a try myself today.



There's so much pollution in the air now that if it weren't for our lungs there'd be no place to put it all. - Robert Orben

Country Music

Day five of the diet. Day five of the diet... did I already say that? Nothing like a day of bananas and skim milk to put your mind on full alert. Barb and I were moved to groom each other last evening. I went out to get the paper this morning and noticed my knuckles were dragging on the sidewalk. Today I get to eat a little beef. Well, I love a country song. Not just because I grew up in the South and have been exposed to them in a big way, but because they are about life. In most of them, you can actually understand the words (with a few exceptions in what currently passes for Country). Words and word play are also a big part of the success formula. My mother's two younger brothers were still at home when I was a kid, and I remember sitting in the front porch swing listening to them play and sing during the fifties. I have quite a few in my repertoire, and I have written and performed several of my own. I enjoy those singers who stay in touch with the roots of the genre. I like Merle Haggard, George Jones, George Strait, Alan Jackson, Randy Travis, and now Josh Turner. I have many more favorites, but those listed can interpret a song. That goes beyond just singing the words. They are able to add subtle bends to the notes to embue them with emotions from their own experience. I decided one night to write a song about Country Music and I am going to present it today in an ammended form more suited for reading.

Country Song

I remember when I was three
just sitting on my daddy’s knee
as I listened to him play in the key of D
a good old country song.
I strummed alone until I was ten
then I picked in a duo with my uncle Ben,
I love it now like I loved it then
playing good old country songs.

By the time I was twenty five,
I was picking in a country dive.
It’s a wonder I am still alive
playing good old country songs.
But every day when my work is done
I play my guitar just for fun.
I’ve memorized most everyone of
those good old country songs.

I love a country song,
soft or loud, short or long,
sung alone or done in harmony.
Fiddles whining, banjos ringing,
guitars strumming, people singing,
that’s country soul and it will
set your spirit free.

Now, I've loved that music my whole life long,
and I don't think that I'm alone,
so if you agree won’t you sing along
on the chorus of this country song?
Because whether I die on the land or sea,
before they start to carry me,
find someone and play for me,
a good old country song.

I love a country song,
soft or loud, short or long,
sung alone or done in harmony.
Fiddles whining, banjos ringing,
guitars strumming, people singing,
that’s country soul and it will
set your spirit free.

Setting a good example for children takes all the fun out of middle age. - William Feather

Roads

Day three of the diet. I am a little light headed this morning. I will shave before I weigh this morning because my beard is very heavy. I used to have a motorcycle very similar to the one pictured above. Mine had a passenger seat, saddle bags, a sissy bar, and a luggage rack. I needed all the extras, because on occasion my wife travelled with me. She loved to ride, but it took a little more gear and prep time when we decided to ride together. I love backroads and highways that are no longer used by the main flow of traffic. When I went on my longer "Rideabouts", usually alone, I tried to find obscure little roads off of the Interstate highways to travel on. Some in my family thought I had become senile and encouraged me to sell the bike. I decided to try a Jeep as a substitute. I like my little red Jeep, but I can't help but miss the feel of the road beneath just two wheels. Maybe when I do get senile, I'll buy another motorcycle. I wrote a Country Song about the rambling life and I'll share an amended version as a poem this morning.

Heat Waves

Heat waves are rising from the pavement.
Reflections of my enslavement.
A wild and restless spirit’s got to roam, Oh Lord.
I’m a drifter just looking for a home.

Another winding road lies before me.
It’s something I’ve seen many times before.
And I wonder as I sit and watch the sun rise,
just where I’ll be when I see its final glow.

The cities I have seen go unnumbered,
and the faces of the people I don’t know.
I think one day that I might try and count them,
but for now I must get on my feet and go.

The road I travel sometimes bathed in sunlight.

At other times it’s covered up with snow.
I’ve even seen Alaska’s midnight sunshine,
and I’ve waded in the Gulf of Mexico.

One day I’ll walk that final highway.
Stretch my thumb out for that final ride.

Headed for that final destination,
and a place where I can lay my load aside.

But those heat waves keep rising from the pavement.
Reflections of my enslavement.
A wild and restless spirit has to roam, Oh Lord.
I’m a drifter just looking for a home.