Tag Archive | lyrics

Poetry Month – April Fool

Listen to the bark of the dogwood tree
Go into the garden take a little green pea
Just one month till the end of school
I’m an April Fool
The willow in the backyard can’t stop weepin’
Seeds in the ground are soundly sleepin’
Days are warm but the nights are cool
I’m an April Fool


I’m an April Fool, and I’ve got to say
From the end of March to the first of May
That’s the place I’d love to stay
I’m an April Fool

Sheets on the line all wild and blowing
Cross your fingers there’s no more snowing
It froze last night in the swimming pool
I’m an April Fool
Gotta mow the grass, been nearly half a year
At nights spring peepers are all you hear
Old full moon like a shining jewel
I’m an April Fool


The old crabgrass keeps on complaining
It’d be real dry if it’d just stop raining
Eliot said this month is cruel
I’m an April Fool
March to the beat of an April tune
We May be this way till June
Take a deep breath and I know that you’ll
Be an April Fool


©1998 John McCutcheon/Appalsongs (ASCAP) & Joe Hill Music (ASCAP)

At the moment

By John McCutcheon

At the moment they brought me the message
I was oceans and hours away
Wondering what I was doing
The moment that you slipped away

At the moment I’m looking out windows
At a night that hold only one star
In the morning it’s gone but I know it’s still
Shining afar

At the moment we raised up our voices
And a bit of our soul was set free
I’m still humbled and awed by the beauty
Of the small part of you that’s in me

We laughed and we danced on the table
And confounded the silence with song
In the dark of this night still it echoes so brightly
And strong

I don’t look for reward ever after
For I hold this life much too dear
From what I can tell both heaven and hell
We create in abundance right here

When the fire that burned is but ashes
And the stories have all been retold
The heat and the light will sustain us
Long after the hearth has grown cold

And grief has a place at the table
For it’s part of what we are made of
And it’ll stay long enough to remind us its mother
Is love

At the moment our lives become memory
And all of our dreaming is done
We shed what it is makes us different
And we don what it is makes us one

What is memory but time rendered timeless
Some small proof we each live anew
I refuse to surrender that small part of me
That is you

Some mark their days by the hours
Some mark their days by the signs
Me? I look to that star and where ever we are
We will shine

Poetry Month – Bob Franke

Beggars to God – Bob Franke

The song of Gypsy Davy rang

Delighted through the night

The wise and foolish virgin

Kept her candles burning bright

Rise up my young and foolish one

And follow if you can,

There’ll be no need for candles

In the arms of such a man.

Make love to each other

Be free with each other

Be prisoners of love ’til you lie in the sod

Be friends to each other

Forgive one another

See God in each other

Be beggars to God.

The night was cold and dark and wet

As they wandered on alone.

The sky became their canopy

The earth became their throne

And as their raiment ran to rags

They thought it nothing wrong

For earth and sky are robe enough

When you sing the gypsie’s song.

They sang and played the gypsy song

Wherever they were sent

To some it seemed a dancing tune

To some a sad lament.

But in every heart that heard them true

A tear became a smile

And the pauper or a prince

Became the gypsy for awhile.

Poetry Month – Latha Math

By Manran

Latha Math air an Eilean


Latha math air an Eilean

Eilean Leòdhais mo Ghràidh

Latha math air an Eilean

Dachaigh mo smuaintean gu bràth

Verse 1

Ag èirigh tràth anns a’ mhadainn

A’ ghrian a’ deàrrsadh sìos

Tha àile na mara a’ tighinn tron uinneig

Tha h-uile duin’ an àirde

Verse 2

Tha an abhainn làn le pailteas uisge

Tha am bradan a’ tighinn a-rithist

Tha na balaich bheaga shios air an drochaid

Feuch an glac iad aon no dhà

Verse 3

Tha an t-Earrach ann ‘s na làithean fada

Tha na h-uain a’ ruith mun cuairt

Tha na bodaich a-muigh a’ buain na mònach

Tha an t-àm sin air tighinn a-rithist

Verse 4

Tha a’ ghealach shuas ‘s a’ ghrian na cadal

Tha an oidhche nis air tighinn

Tha e sàmhach is ciùin tron an Eilean

Tha e math a bhith beò

Tha e math a bhith beò

Raise a cup o’ kindness and don’t sing zyne!

Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
in days of auld lang syne?

For auld lang syne, my dear
for auld lang syne
we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet
For auld lang syne.

And surely ye’ll be your pint-stowp!
And surely I’ll be mine!
And we’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet
For auld lang syne.

We twa hae run aboot the braes
And pou’d the gowans fine
We’ve wandered mony a weary foot
Sin’ auld lang syne

We twa a sport’d i’ the burn
From morning sun ’til dine
But seas between us braid hae roar’d
Sin’ auld lang syne.

And there’s a hand me trusty friend
And gies a hand o’ thine
We’ll tak a good right willie-waught
For auld lang syne.

Robert Burns

And do me a favour, and don’t piss off me gran and sing ‘syne’ not ‘zyne’!

Posted via m.livejournal.com

Yuletide Blogging Festival – Pagan Carols


SILVER MOON (to the tune of “Silver Bells”)

City witches, busy witches,
dressed in festival style
In the air there’s a feeling of ritual.

Women laughing, Chalice passing Sharing smile after smile,

And ’round every hearth fire you hear:
Silver moon, Mother moon,
It’s Goddess time in the city. Circling, hear them sing,
Soon it will be Solstice Day.

Strings of candles, held by handle With a flickering glow,
As the witches weave magickal treasures.
Touching changing, changing touching,
This is Diana’s scene,

And with all of the blessings you hear:
Silver moon, Mother moon,
It’s Goddess time in the city. Circling, hear them sing,
Soon it will be Solstice Day.

Another Comma special bastardization

My favourite patriotic and most pagan song

My country, ’tis of thee,
Sweet land of liberty,
Of thee I sing;
Land where my fathers died,
Land of the pilgrims’ pride,
From every mountainside
Let freedom ring!

My native country, thee,
Land of the noble free,
Thy name I love;
I love thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills;
My heart with rapture thrills,
Like that above.

Let music swell the breeze,
And ring from all the trees
Sweet freedom’s song;
Let mortal tongues awake;
Let all that breathe partake;
Let rocks their silence break,
The sound prolong.

Our mothers’ God to Thee,
Author of liberty,
To Thee we sing.
Long may our land be bright,
With freedom’s holy light,
Protect us by Thy might,
Great God our King.

5 (added to celebrate Washington’s Centennial)[4]

Our joyful hearts today,
Their grateful tribute pay,
Happy and free,
After our toils and fears,
After our blood and tears,
Strong with our hundred years,
O God, to Thee.

Additional verses by Henry van Dyke
We love thine inland seas,
Thy groves and giant trees,
Thy rolling plains;
Thy rivers’ mighty sweep,
Thy mystic canyons deep,
Thy mountains wild and steep,–
All thy domains.