| Don Quixote Through the woodland, through the valley, comes a horseman wild and free. Tilting at the windmills passing, who can the brave young horseman be? He is wild but he is mellow, he is strong but he is weak. He is cruel but he is gentle, he is wise but he is meek. Reaching for his saddlebag, he takes a battered book into his hand. Standing like a prophet bold, he shouts across the ocean to the shore till he can shout no more. I have come o'er moor and mountain like the hawk upon the wing. I was once a shining knight who was the guardian of a king. I have searched the whole world over looking for a place to sleep. I have seen the strong survive and I have seen the lean grown weak. See the children of the earth who wake to find the table bare. See the gentry in the country riding off to take the air. Reaching for his saddlebag, he takes a rusty sword into his hand. Then striking up a knightly pose he shouts across the ocean to the shore till he can shout no more. See the jailer with his key who locks away all trace of sin. See the judge upon the bench who tries the case as best he can. See the wise and wicked ones who feed upon life's sacred fire See the soldier with his gun who must be dead to be admired. See the man who tips the needle, see the man who buys and sells. See the man who puts the collar on the ones who dare not tell See the drunkard in the tavern stemming gold to make ends meet. See the youth in ghetto black condemned to life upon the street. Reaching for his saddlebag, he takes a tarnished cross into his hand. Then standing like a preacher now, he shouts across the ocean to the shore. Then in a blaze of tangled hooves he gallops off across the dusty plain in vain to search again where no one will hear. Through the woodland, through the valley, comes a horseman wild and free. Tilting at the windmills passing, who can the brave young horseman be? He is wild but he is mellow, he is strong but he is weak. He is cruel but he is gentle, he is wise but he is meek. Christian Island (Georgian Bay) I'm sailing down the summer wind, I got whiskers on my chin and I like the mood I'm in as I while away the time of day in the lee of Christian Island. Tall and strong she dips and reels, I call her Silver Heels and she tells me how she feels. She's a good old boat and she'll stay afloat through the toughest gales and keep smiling. But for one more day she would like to stay in the lee of Christian Island. I'm sailing down the summer day where the fish and seagulls play, I put my troubles all away. And when the gales comes up I'll fill my cup with the whiskey of the Highlands. She's a good old ship and she'll make the trip from the lee of Christian Island. Tall and strong she slips along, I sing for her a song and she leans into the wind. She's a good old boat and she'll stay afloat through the toughest gales and keep smiling When the summer ends we will rest again in the lee of Christian Island. When the summer ends we will rest again in the lee of Christian Island. Alberta Bound Oh the prairie lights are burning bright, the Chinook wind is a-moving in, tomorrow night I'll be Alberta bound. Though I've done the best I could, my old luck ain't been so good and tomorrow night I'll be Alberta bound. No one-eyed man could ever forget the Rocky Mountain sunset, it's a pleasure just to be Alberta bound. I long to see my next of kin to know what kind of shape they're in, tomorrow night I'll be Alberta bound. Alberta bound, Alberta bound, it's good to be Alberta bound. Alberta bound, Alberta bound, it's good to be Alberta bound. Oh, the skyline of Toronto is something you'll get onto but they say you've got to live there for a while. And if you got the money, you can get yourself a honey with a written guarantee to make you smile. But it's snowing in the city and the streets and brown and gritty and I know there's pretty girls all over town, but they never seem to find me and the one I left behind me is the reason that I'll be Alberta bound. Alberta bound, Alberta bound, it's good to be Alberta bound. Alberta bound, Alberta bound, it's good to be Alberta bound. It's good to be Alberta bound. Looking At The Rain Looking at the rain, feeling the pain of love lost running though my brain. Looking at the wind, watching it spin, the leaves along the street- you win. Waiting for a line to fall, telling you it's all a big mistake. Looking at a face so out of place inside that picture frame of lace. Looking at the wall, wishing you'd call and tell me you're OK, that's all. Wishing this was all a dream and I'd find you sleeping when I wake. Looking at the trees, so ill at ease from sleep that will not come, that's me. Looking at the dawn, knowing it's wrong, still thinking of your love that's gone. Wishing this was all a dream and I'd find you sleeping when I wake. Looking at the rain, feeling the pain of love lost running though my brain. Looking at the wind, watching it spin, the leaves along the street- you win. Waiting for a line to fall, telling you it's all a big mistake. But the words won't come. I know, I'd feel the same. Looking at the rain. Ordinary Man Try to understand- I'm not your ordinary man, still I can't deny you go with me everywhere, when I'm dreaming you still share my lonely nights. Try to see my side- it's not your ordinary pride that keeps driving me on. It's that lonesome, restless feeling that you feel under the gun and it leads me to the highways but it keeps my body warm. And as I wander to the cities and the towns, I get so lonesome knowing you could be around. And when the show is over, there's a Holiday Motel, another empty bar room and another tale to tell. Try to comprehend- I'm not your ordinary friend at the end of my life. I would pray that I could be returning to the shelter of your love. Try to see my side- it's not your ordinary pride that keeps driving me on. It's that lonesome, restless feeling that you feel under the gun and it leads me to the highways but it keeps my body warm. And as I wander to the cities and the towns, I get so lonesome knowing you could be around. And when the show is over, there's a Holiday Motel, another empty bar room and another tale to tell. Try to understand- I'm not your ordinary man, still I can't deny you go with me everywhere, like a shadow in the gloom, I remember all the good times, there's a ghost in every room. Brave Mountaineers Born in the country and I like that country smile of the little girls and boys, they remind me of a child that I knew and a big harvest moon that shone by suppertime in the dusty afternoon. And I need to be there when the autumn wind goes whistling through the trestle we would climb like brave mountaineers, who never were much bothered by time. Born in the country and I like that country song we played for just a nickel every time we got to town and I bought you a dime diamond ring, in the hayloft we would play, we were princesses and kings. And I need to be there when the world gets too heavy and the shadows cross my mind like brave mountaineers who never were much bothered by time. Born in the country and I like that country way of the uncles and the cousins and the card games they would play while the young ones slept overhead beneath the quilts that mother made, when all the prayers were said. And I need to be there when the autumn wind goes whistling through the trestle we would climb like brave mountaineers, who never were much bothered by time. And I need to be there when the world gets too heavy and the shadows cross my mind like brave mountaineers who never were much bothered by time. Ode To Big Blue The oceans of the world were the home of big blue. He was the greatest monster that the world ever knew and the place that he loved best was the waters to the west. Around the blue Pacific he did roam. Big Blue moved alone for a mighty blue was he and the battles of the whales was an awesome sight to see and he took them one by one and he drove them all away. In the mating of the day he was the king. Big blue had fifty wives and he sired forty sons though most of them feel victim to the cruel harpoon guns, ah, but he was too much wise to get caught by the gunners' eyes and so he lived at sea a hundred years. His mouth was as large as a tunnel, so they say. His hide was thick as leather and his eyes quick and small and his back was all scarred by the times he got away and he knew the smell of whalers, did Big Blue. Big Blue passed away to his natural decay beside the Arctic Circle as he traveled up that way and there never was a man who was born with a gunner's hand who ever took a pan to Big Blue. Now the gray whale has run and the sperm is almost done. The finbacks and the Greenland rights have all passed and gone, they've been taken by the men for the money they could spend and the killing never ends, it just goes on. The oceans of the earth were the home of big blue. He was the greatest monster that the world ever knew and the place that he loved best was the waters to the west. Around the blue Pacific he did roam. Second Cup of Coffee I'm on my second cup of coffee and I still can't face the day. I'm thinking of the lady who got lost along the way and if I don't stop this trembling hand from reaching for the phone, I'll be reaching for the bottle, Lord, before this day is done. I'm on my second cup of coffee and I still can't face the day. The room was filled with laughs as we danced the night away but my sleep was filled with dreaming of the wrongs that I had done and the gentle sweet reminder of a daughter and a son. Sitting alone, my friends have all gone home, you never know when they'll come dropping in. Thinking of girls with their fingers in my curls, too young to understand how love begins. I'm on my second cup of coffee and I still can't face the dawn. The radio is playing a soft country song and if I don't stop this trembling hand from reaching for the phone, I'll be reaching for the bottle, Lord, before this day is done. Beautiful At times I just don't know how you could be anything but beautiful. I think that I was made for you and you were made for me. And I know that I will never change cause we've been friends through rain or shine for such a long, long time. Laughing eyes and smiling face, it's seems so lucky just to have the right of telling you with all my might you're beautiful tonight. And I know that you will never stray cause you’ve been that way from day to day for such a long, long time. And when you hold me tight, how could life be anything but beautiful? I think that I was made for you and you were made for me. And I know that I will never change cause we've been friends through rain or shine for such a long, long time. And I must say that it means so much to me just to be the one who's telling you, I'm telling you that you're beautiful. On Susan's Floor Like crippled ships that made it through a storm and finally reached a quiet shore, the homeless found a home on Susan's floor. Didn't feel so cold and tired stretched out before her fire, rolling smokes and drinking up her wine. And I remember candlelight and singing till we could not sing no more, then falling warm asleep on Susan's floor. Well now that my song is sweeter, I think I'd like to greet her and thank her for the favors that she gave. A stranger I came, my head bowed in the rain to her door, I sat and sang my songs on Susan's floor. In the morning I'd go on, buying kingdoms with my songs, knowing I'd be back in just a while, warm in the sunlight of her smile. Well, lots of time and songs have passed, I catch myself just looking back, reliving all the wonder of those nights. That's where I'd be today if I had only stayed one night more and sang another song on Susan's floor. Like crippled ships that made it through a storm and finally reached a quiet shore, the homeless found a home on Susan's floor. The Patriot's Dream The songs of the wars are as old as the hills, they cling like the rust on the cold steel that kills. They tell of the boys who went down to the tracks in a patriotic manner with the cold steel on their backs. The patriot's dream is as old as the sky, it lives in the lust of a cold callous lie. Let's drink to the men who got caught by the chill of the patriotic fever and the cold steel that kills. The train pulled away on that glorious night, the drummer got drunk and the bugler got tight. Well, the boys in the back sang a song of good cheer while riding off to glory in the spring of their years. The patriot's dream still lives on today, it makes mothers weep and it makes lovers pray. Let's drink to the men who got caught by the chill of the patriotic fever and the cold steel that kills. Well there was a sad, sad lady weeping all night long, she received a sad, sad message from a voice on the telephone. Her children were all sleeping as she waited out the dawn, how could she tell those children their father was shot down. She took them to her side that day ad she told them one by one, "Your father was a good man ten thousand miles from home. He tried to do his duty and it took him straight to hell, he might be in some prison, I hope he's treated well." Well there was a young girl watching in the early afternoon when she heard the name of someone who said he'd be home soon. She wondered how they got him, but the papers did not tell, there would be no sweet reunion, there would be no wedding bells. So she took herself into her room and she turned the bed sheets down, she cried into the silken folds of her new wedding gown. He tried to do his duty and it took him straight to hell. he might be in some prison, I hope he's treated well. Well there was an old man sitting in his mansion on the hill, he thought of his good fortune and the time he'd yet to kill. He called to his wife one day, "Come sit with me awhile," then turning toward the sunset, he smiled a wicked smile. "Well I'd like to say I'm sorry for the sinful deeds I've done, but let me first remind you, I'm a patriotic son." They tried to do their duty and it took 'em straight to hell. They might be in some prison, I hope they're treated well. The songs of the wars are as old as the hills, they cling like the rust on the cold steel that kills. They tell of the boys who went down to the tracks in a patriotic manner with the cold steel on their backs. The train pulled away on that glorious night, the drummer got drunk and the bugler got tight. Well, the boys in the back sang a song of good cheer while riding off to glory in the spring of their years. The patriot's dream still lives on today, it makes mothers weep and it makes lovers pray. Let's drink to the men who got caught by the chill of the patriotic fever and the cold steel that kills. |
| Don Quixote |