a dreaded sunny day

a dreaded sunny day, so I say:
"meet me at the cemetry gates! ;o)] xxx"



'Cemetry Gates' by The Smiths
[which has the bestest bass-line ever! ;o)]
with thanks to tom & jack for such a great video!

"...A dreaded sunny day
So I meet you at the cemetry gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side
A dreaded sunny day
So I meet you at the cemetry gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side
While Wilde is on mine

So we go inside and we gravely read the stones
All those people, all those lives
Where are they now?
With loves, and hates
And passions just like mine
They were born
And then they lived
And then they died
Seems so unfair
I want to cry

You say: "'Ere thrice the sun done salutation to the dawn"
And you claim these words as your own
But I've read well, and I've heard them said
A hundred times (maybe less, maybe more)
If you must write prose and poems
The words you use should be your own
Don't plagiarise or take "on loan"
There's always someone, somewhere
With a big nose, who knows
And trips you up and laughs
When you fall
Who'll trip you up and laugh
When you fall

You say: "'Ere long done do does did"
Words which could only be your own
And then produce the text
From whence was ripped
Some dizzy whore in 1804

A dreaded sunny day
So let's go where we're happy
And I meet you at the cemetry gates
Oh, Keats and Yeats are on your side
A dreaded sunny day
So let's go where we're wanted
And I meet you at the cemetry gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side
But you lose
'Cos the weird love of Wilde is on mine..."

bye bye, blackbird

as there are too many birds, sadly it's time to say:
bye bye, blackbird:


sung by Peggy Lee

"...Pack up all my cares and woe
Here I go, singing low
Bye bye, blackbird

Where somebody waits for me
Sugar sweet, so is he
Bye bye, blackbird

No-one here can love or understand me
All those hard luck stories they all hand me
Make my bed, light my light
I'll arrive late tonight
Blackbird, bye bye

A while ago, when I was young
I heard a song and heard it sung
(Bye bye, blackbird)

I dont know why it makes me sad
a happy song should make me glad
(Bye bye, blackbird)

Make my bed, light my light
I'll arrive late tonight
Blackbird, bye bye..."


"...When smoke stood up from Ludlow,
And mist blew off from Teme,
And blithe afield to ploughing
Against the morning beam
I strode beside my team,

The blackbird in the coppice
Looked out to see me stride,
And hearkened as I whistled
The trampling team beside,
And fluted and replied:

"Lie down, lie down, young yeoman;
What use to rise and rise?
Rise man a thousand mornings
Yet down at last he lies,
And then the man is wise."

I heard the tune he sang me,
And spied his yellow bill;
I picked a stone and aimed it
And threw it with a will:
Then the bird was still.

Then my soul within me
Took up the blackbird’s strain,
And still beside the horses
Along the dewy lane
It sang the song again:

"Lie down, lie down, young yeoman;
The sun moves always west;
The road one treads to labour
Will lead one home to rest,
And that will be the best..."

Poem VII from 'A Shropshire Lad'
by A. E. Housman

bye bye, blackbird

too many birds

of all the birdsong that graces my ears, perhaps it is the exuberant call of the simple blackbird that stirs my soul the most - perched in high places trilling morning, evening, before, during or after a rain shower - the improvised last notes of the call surprising myself and perhaps even the bird - the pure and authentic spirit of life.

so, it breaks my heart to think that when there are too many birds,
there is a blackbird that might not have a home:



"... Too many birds in one tree
Too many birds in one tree
And the sky is full of black and screaming leaves
The sky is full of black and screaming

And one more bird
Then one more bird
And one last bird
And another

One last black bird without a place to land
One last black bird without a place to be
Turns around in hopes to find, the place it last knew rest
Oh black bird, over black rain burn
This is not where you last knew rest
You fly all night to sleep on stone
The heartless rest that in the morn, will be gone
You fly all night to sleep on stone, to return to the tree with too many birds
Too many birds
Too many birds

If
If you
If you could
If you could only
If you could only stop
If you could only stop your
If you could only stop your heart
If you could only stop your heart-beat
If you could only stop your heart-beat for
If you could only stop your heart-beat for one heart
If you could only stop your heart-beat for one heart-beat..."

Oh blackbird, I'll give you a place to land, I'll give you a place to be, don't fly all night to try and find a place where you last knew rest, to sleep on stone - I'll try and make my garden a haven for you to nestle in. I'll try. But we all need such places too, including you and including me. Thank you Bill Callahan for helping me to realise this ;o)] xxx

I started out in search of ordinary things

[thank you for coming today. the light shines through.
I started out in search of ordinary things:)


'Jim Cain' by Bill Callahan from 'Sometimes I Wish We Were An Eagle'

"...I started out in search of ordinary things:
How much of a tree bends in the wind.

I started telling the story without knowing the end.

I used to be darker, then I got lighter, then I got dark again,
Something to be seen was passing over and over me.
Well it seemed like the routine case at first:
With the death of the shadow came a lightness of verse.
But the darkest of nights, in truth, still dazzled,
And I work myself until I'm frazzled.

I ended up in search of ordinary things:
Like how can a wave possibly be?
I started running, and the concrete turned to sand,
I started running, and things didn't pan out as planned.

In case things go poorly and I not return,
Remember the good things I done.
In case things go poorly and I not return,
Remember the good things I done,
Or done me in..."



(I ended up in search of ordinary things ;o)]

I came to a high place of darkness and Light

Bob married Isis on the fifth day of May
[but he could not hold on to her very long ... ! ;o)]

Here's 'Isis' by Bob Dylan,
featuring Scarlet Rivera playing captivating fiddle,
making a magical combination with
drums, harp, piano, bass and Bob's voice:



"... I married Isis on the fifth day of May,
But I could not hold on to her very long;
So I cut off my hair and I rode straight away
For the wild unknown country where I could not go wrong.

I came to a high place of darkness and light,
The dividing line ran through the center of town;
I hitched up my pony to a post on the right,
Went in to a laundry to wash my clothes down.

A man in the corner approached me for a match,
I knew right away he was not ordinary;
He said, "Are you lookin' for somethin' easy to catch?"
I said, "I got no money." He said, "That ain't necessary."

We set out that night for the cold in the North,
I gave him my blanket, he gave me his word;
I said, "Where are we goin'?" He said we'd be back by the fourth,
I said, "That's the best news that I've ever heard."

I was thinkin' about turquoise, I was thinkin' about gold,
I was thinkin' about diamonds and the world's biggest necklace;
As we rode through the canyons, through the devilish cold,
I was thinkin' about Isis, how she thought I was so reckless.

How she told me that one day we would meet up again,
And things would be different the next time we wed;
If I only could hang on and just be her friend,
I still can't remember all the best things she said.

We came to the pyramids all embedded in ice,
He said, "There's a body I'm tryin' to find;
If I carry it out it'll bring a good price."
'Twas then that I knew what he had on his mind.

The wind it was howlin' and the snow was outrageous,
We chopped through the night and we chopped through the dawn;
When he died I was hopin' that it wasn't contagious,
But I made up my mind that I had to go on.

I broke into the tomb, but the casket was empty,
There was no jewels, no nothin', I felt I'd been had;
When I saw that my partner was just bein' friendly,
When I took up his offer I must-a been mad.

I picked up his body and I dragged him inside,
Threw him down in the hole and I put back the cover;
I said a quick prayer, and I felt satisfied,
Then I rode back to find Isis just to tell her I love her.

She was there, in the meadow, where the creek used to rise,
Blinded by sleep and in need of a bed;
I came in from the East with the sun in my eyes,
I cursed her one time, then I rode on ahead.

She said, "Where ya been?" I said, "No place special."
She said, "You look different." I said, "Well, I guess."
She said, "You been gone." I said, "That's only natural."
She said, "You gonna stay?" I said, "If you want me to, yes."

Isis, oh, Isis, you mystical child,
What drives me to you is what drives me insane;
I still can remember the way that you smiled,
On the fifth day of May in the drizzlin' rain ..."

softer than a shower ...

that's me ... ! ;oD]
and this is my favourite track from the latest album by
The Decemberists,
for the imagery, beauty and pure, simple, gentle tenderness ...

"The Hazards Of Love 2 (Wager All)" from
'The Hazards Of Love' by The Decemberists

"... William:

And here I am, softer than a shower
And here I am, to garland you with flowers
To lay you down in a clover bed
The stars a roof above our heads

And all my life, I've never felt the tremor
And all my life, that now disturbs my fingers
I'll lay you down in a clover bed
The stars, a roof above our heads

And we'll lie until the Corn Crake crows
Bereft of the weight of our summer clothes
And I'd wager all
The hazards of love
The hazards of love

And take my hand, and cradle it in your hand
And take my hand, to feel the pull of quicksand
I'll lay you down in a clover bed
The stars, a roof above our heads

And we'll lie until the Corn Crake crows
Bereft of the weight of our summer clothes
And I'd wager all
The hazards of love
The hazards of love
The hazards of love
The hazards of
Love ..."

'tis the season

'tis May, and so, 'tis the season for Morris Dancing, especially ...
Extreme Morris Dancing!



With thanks to the Dogrose Morris

[In terms of Morris Dancing, this is the most extreme that I get! ;o)]

so now another weekend starts with that longing feeling

Well, a little longer weekend is just beginning (what with Monday being a Bank Holiday), but that shouldn't get in the way of:
a true feeling, a true thought, or the flowering of a true song ...

' A Short Weekend Begins With Longing'

by 'The Leisure Society'



Recorded as part of the project 'Bandstand Busking'

"... Fine for a while: we were happy 'til it died,
Fate shook the reigns from the hands of my accomplice.
Seven story signs, written in a simple language.

Turned into stone all the people they had known,
Lost on their way through a world of blank expression.
No-one made the time, everybody had their reasons.

So now another weekend starts with that longing feeling;
I'd hoped that you might feel it too ...

Winding my way through the plans I never made,
Don't step aside: I was hoping you might help me -
Save me once again, from this dreadful sinking feeling.

So now another weekend starts with that longing feeling;
I'd hoped that you might feel it too ...

Feel it too ..."


from 'The Sleeper' by The Leisure Society