Songs as sung poetry

[beths-virtue]

ok, now, for some , who may disagree, i think certain songs are little more than sung poetry ( wow that rhymes)
personal lyric meisters i like....

gordon lightfoot... nearlyevery song is pure poetry...


an example


ecstacy made easy

the parentisis are chords , if you play guitar




I can always (D) try to for(B)get somehow
(A) What's a part of the (F#m) past (A/F#)
(D) Have a little (G) laughter if you (A) please (G)
(A) I won't even (D) mind if it (Bm) takes awhile
(A) I've got time on my (F#m) hands (A/F#)
(D) I feel another (G/B) chapter in the (A) breeze (Em7) (A)

(E) Somebody touched my (B/E) heart (E/B) string
(E) Somebody made (A/E) my heart (B) sing
(E) Somebody stole my (B) heart a(E/B)way
(E) Nobody's saying their (A/E)sor(B)ry
(E) It's a mighty sweet (A) mus(E)ic
You can (B) dance all night
(E) Put some wood on the (A) fire right (E) now
(A) Ecstacy made (Am) easy (E) (D) (Bm) (A) (A/F#)

Ecstasy I ask you, are you a name
Or just another patron with a smile
Let me analyze you, are you a flame
Or just the dying embers of a kiss run wild

Somebody found my heart string
Somebody made my heart sing
Somebody touched my heart last night
Somebody set me in flight
It's a mighty sweet music
Take a chance they say
Put a flame in the old hot stove
Ecstasy made easy

It's a mighty sweet music
You can dance all night
Put some fire in the old iron stove
(A) Ecstasy made (E) easy, made (Am) easy (E)

I hope I never lose what belongs to me
By the right of my birth
At midnight sailing out of Perth
Getting under way we turned 'er westward bound
On that southern sea to sea what ecstasy was worth

 

[_Land]

William Blake Songs of Innocence

ON ANOTHER'S SORROW

Can I see another's woe,
And not be in sorrow too?
Can I see another's grief,
And not seek for kind relief?

Can I see a falling tear,
And not feel my sorrow's share?
Can a father see his child
Weep, nor be with sorrow filled?

Can a mother sit and hear
An infant groan, an infant fear?
No, no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!

And can He who smiles on all
Hear the wren with sorrows small,
Hear the small bird's grief and care,
Hear the woes that infants bear --

And not sit beside the next,
Pouring pity in their breast,
And not sit the cradle near,
Weeping tear on infant's tear?

And not sit both night and day,
Wiping all our tears away?
Oh no! never can it be!
Never, never can it be!

He doth give his joy to all:
He becomes an infant small,
He becomes a man of woe,
He doth feel the sorrow too.

Think not thou canst sigh a sigh,
And thy Maker is not by:
Think not thou canst weep a tear,
And thy Maker is not year.

Oh He gives to us his joy,
That our grief He may destroy:
Till our grief is fled an gone
He doth sit by us and moan.

 

[karmadog]

Yeah, some songs stand alone as poetry, but sometimes when they're read, they are far less effective. The voice and the music add emotional content. Like the difference between reading a play, and seeing it performed. I didn't really appreciate Shakespeare until I saw it live.

That said, I love Elvis Costello.

Alison

Oh it's so funny to be seein' ya after so long girl
And with the way you look I understand
that you are not impressed
but I heard you let that little friend of mine
take off your party dress
I'm not gonna get too sentimental
like those other sticky valentines
Cuz I don't know if you are lovin' somebody
I only know it isn't mine

Alison
I know this world is killin' you
Oh Alison
My aim is true

Well I see you got a husband now
did he leave your pretty fingers
lyin' in the wedding cake
You used to hold him right in your hand
I bet he took all he could take
Sometimes I wish that I could stop
you from talkin' when I
hear the silly things that you say
I think somebody better put out the big light
Cuz I can't stand to see you this way

Alison
I know this world is killin' you
Oh Alison
My aim is true
My aim is true

The line breaks are mine, and I'm writing this from memory, so I can't guarantee that the words are precise, but they're pretty close.

 

[Rybka]

Songs as Poetry

Anyone for Simon and Garfunkle? Bob Dylan? Donavan?

Gee's, now I have to go get stoned!


Regards, Rybka (the smoked fish)

 

[Angeline]

This is Great!

I love your choices thus far (and Rybka are you suggesting you're a lox, um I mean a salmon?). Here's one that was written in 1949 by Billy Strayhorn, Duke Ellington's arranger.

Lush Life

written by Billy Strayhorn
© 1949 Tempo Music (ASCAP)

I used to visit all the very gay places
Those come what may places
Where one relaxes on the axis of the wheel of life
To get the feel of life from jazz and cocktails

The girls I knew had sad and sullen grey faces
With distingue traces
That used to be there you could see where they'd been washed away
By too many through the day twelve o'clock tales

Then you came along with your siren song
To tempt me to madness
I thought for a while that your poignant smile
Was tinged with the sadness of a great love for me
Ah yes I was wrong, again I was wrong

Life is lonely again
And only last year everything seemed so sure
Now life is awful again
A trough full of hearts could only be a bore
A week in Paris could ease the bite of it
All I care is to smile in spite of it

I'll forget you, I will
While yet you are still burning inside my brain
Romance is mush, stifling those who strive
So I'll live a lush life in some small dive
And there I'll be
While I rot
With the rest of those whose lives are lonely too


Sigh. Those lyrics make me sigh. Actually, a week in Paris will ease the bite of most things, I suspect.

 

[smithpeter]

Déjàvuitus,

About 6 years ago someone I know passed up a chance to see Mac Rebennack.
This weekend she also passes up the opportunity to see Bonnie Raitt and Lyle Lovett in Chicago.
So there is rage in music and my frustrations for the simple mindedness of people of greater opportunity.

I like this thread. There was one a while back.
My submission is the same.
I really like this song and the way the words are stacked against the music.
There was one of those times in my life when the music seemed to reflect reality.


It is an excuse for rock and roll with an undercurrent.

Fruitcake by Pony

you never told me that your dad was such a fruitcake
I'd seen the pictures but i thought maybe he'd changed
the things he talked about seemed way too convoluted
you never mentioned that your dad was so deranged

can i be so bold as to ask if you would want to run away

you'll never have to see that old insipid fruitcake
you'll never have to hear him screaming for his beer

you told me you lived on a farm with lots of horses
i wish that i could ride the horses in your brain
you always told me that your mom was strong and healthy
i wish i'd been there then to save her from that train

can i be so bold as to ask if you would want to be my girl

you'll never have to run outside and put his clothes on
you'll never have to cover his ears when it rains

i will take you away, i will put you in my car
i can see anything, i see your beauty through your scars

for a while i think i'll sit out in my backyard
and pick some daisies i can put into your hair
maybe later i can teach you how to wrassle
and you can tell me how the pyramids got there

can i be so bold as to ask if you would want to be my girl

you'll never have to see that old decrepit fruitcake
you'll never have to hear him screaming for his beer

i will take you away, i will put you in my car
i can see anything, i see your beauty through your scars
i will take you away, take you far away from this place
everything we leave behind will be gone as soon as we're gone

 

[Rybka]

Simon & Garfunkle

The Sound of Silence
- P. Simon, 1964

Hello darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone,
'Neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence.

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more.
People talking without speaking, People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dare
Disturb the sound of silence.

"Fools" said I, "You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach you."
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed
In the wells of silence.

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning,
In the words that it was forming.
And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls."
And whisper'd in the sounds of silence.


Kathy's Song
- P. Simon, 1965

I hear the drizzle of the rain
Like a memory it falls
Soft and warm continuing
Tapping on my roof and walls.

And from the shelter of my mind
Through the window of my eyes
I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets
To England where my heart lies.

My mind's distracted and diffused
My thoughts are many miles away
They lie with you when you're asleep
And kiss you when you start your day.

And as a song I was writing is left undone
I don't know why I spend my time
Writing songs I can't believe
With words that tear and strain to rhyme.

And so you see I have come to doubt
All that I once held as true
I stand alone without beliefs
The only truth I know is you.

And as I watch the drops of rain
Weave their weary paths and die
I know that I am like the rain
There but for the grace of you go I.

 

[karmadog]

wrap your legs 'round these velvet rims
and strap your hands cross my engine.

The Boss

 

[Angeline]

He is the Boss

here's another reason why:

FOR YOU

Princess cards she sends me with her regards
barroom eyes shine vacancy, to see her you gotta look hard
Wounded deep in battle, I stand stuffed like some soldier undaunted
To her Cheshire smile. I'll stand on file, she's all I ever wanted.
But you let your blue walls get in the way of these facts
honey, get your carpetbaggers off my back
you wouldn't even give me time to cover my tracks.
You said, "Here's your mirror and your ball and jacks".
But they're not what I came for, and I'm sure you see that too
I came for you, for you, I came for you, but you did not need my urgency
I came for you, for you, I came for you, but your life was one long emergency
and your cloud line urges me, and my electric surges free

Crawl into my ambulance, your pulse is getting weak
reveal yourself all now to me girl while you've got the strength to speak
Cause they're waiting for you at Bellevue with their oxygen masks
But I could give it all to you now if only you could ask.
And don't call for your surgeon even he says it's too late
It's not your lungs this time, it's your heart that holds your fate
Don't give me money, honey, I don't want it back
you and your pony face and your union jack
well take your local joker and teach him how to act
I swear I was never that way even when I really cracked
Didn't you think I knew that you were born with the power of a locomotive
able to leap tall buildings in a single bound?
And your Chelsea suicide with no apparent motive
you could laugh and cry in a single sound.

And your strength is devastating in the face of all these odds
Remember how I kept you waiting when it was my turn to be the god?

You were not quite half so proud when I found you broken on the beach
Remember how I poured salt on your tongue and hung just out of reach
And the band they played the homecoming theme as I caressed your cheek
That ragged, jagged melody she still clings to me like a leech.
But that medal you wore on your chest always got in the way
like a little girl with a trophy so soft to buy her way
We were both hitchhikers but you had your ear tuned to the roar
of some metal-tempered engine on an alien, distant shore
So you, left to find a better reason than the one we were living for
and it's not that nursery mouth I came back for
It's not the way you're stretched out on the floor
cause I've broken all your windows and I've rammed through all your doors
And who am I to ask you to lick my sores?
And you should know that's true...
I came for you, for you, I came for you, but you did not need my urgency
I came for you, for you, I came for you, but your life was one long emergency
and your cloud line urges me, and my electric surges free


(Bruce. Damn. Could someone please just scoop me up and wheel me out of this thread?)

 

[Senna Jawa]

Bulat Okudjava, Wlodzimierz Szymanowicz

You can't have a thread like this without Bulat Okudjava (or Okudzava), a poet, a writer, a song writer, and someone who was singing his own songs in a unique way. Perhaps later I will find his songs on Intetrnet, translated into English (or Rybka possibly can do it off hand).

Vladimir Vysotsky was another "unofficial" troubadour of those late decades of the Soviet Evil Empire. He was even more popular than Bulat. Vysotsky was quite a character. So super-Russian but of Jewish descend. People thought that he was with them at the front, during WWII but he was too young for that (Okudjava yes, he was a soldier at 17 during that War). People thought that Vysotsky was with them imprisoned in one of the Soviet concentration camps (Gulags) but it was the suggestiveness of his songs. (Nevertheless, as much as I like Vysotsky, I value and like Okudzava's songs/poetry even more). What else? Vysotsky was a great drama and movie actor, and a hopeless drunkard.

I am also thinking about my friend, Wlodzimierz Szymanowicz, who died at twenty. Not a single poem by him was published during his life (and in those days there was virtually no other way to distribute your poems). He was a genius. His main art was painting and graphics. No wonder that his poems have delightful images. Who knows, despite his mother's titanic efforts his poetry would be forgotten, if it were not for a lucky strike. A poem by him, years after he died, was adopted for a song, and it won a very popular contest. Suddenly, he was popular, at least for a while. Going back to Szymanowicz's writing, he started to translate American blues into Polish before he was 12, and he did an incredible job! He had preserved the nostalgic blues spirit while mixing it with the language and motives of his surrounding, of his generation of boys with which he roamed the streets.

Regards,

 

[Senna Jawa]

Re: Bulat Okudjava, Wlodzimierz Szymanowicz

You can't have a thread like this without Bulat Okudjava (or Okudzava), a poet, a writer, a song writer, and someone who was singing his own songs in a unique way. Perhaps later I will find his songs on Internet, translated into English (or Rybka possibly can do it off hand).

Here you go:

                Bulat

This will do for starters

 

[Angeline]

Henry Jones

This old jazz/blues novelty song always cracks me up. The Pointer Sisters did a great cover of it on their Steppin' album, which is, alas, out of print. I've seen the lyric attributed to the great Johnny Mercer, but I think that's wrong.

Save the Bones for Henry Jones

Tonight I’ll serve a supper,
we’ll eat some food that’s rare,
and at the head of the table,
I’ll place brother Henry’s chair.
Invite all the local big dogs,
we’ll laugh and talk and eat,
but we’ll save the bones for Henry Jones,
cause Henry don’t eat no meat.

Today I’ll go to market
and buy a lot of fish,
that will thrill Brother Henry,
cause fish is his special dish.
Get a large can of molasses,
so we’ll have something sweet,
but save the bones for Henry Jones
cause Henry don’t eat no meat.

Henry ain’t no drinker,
he rarely takes a nip,
and he don’t need no napkin,
cause the things he eats don’t drip.

One day we had a banquet,
it really was a bake,
They started off with short ribs
and finished off with a steak,
but when the feast was over,
Brother Henry just kept his seat,
and we served the bones to Henry Jones,
cause Henry don’t eat no meat.

 

[Senna Jawa]

Re: Re: Bulat Okudjava, Wlodzimierz Szymanowicz

Here you go:

                Bulat

This will do for starters

You may check also:

                About Bulat

Here is a quote from that page. Okudzava said:

After the front, after the University, I was sent to Kaluzhsk, to the local school to teach Russian and literature. I wrote poetry, a little, just like everyone writes poetry. Very unprofessional. I began to send my poems to the local newspaper and always the answer was the same: "Read more Pushkin, Lermontov, Nekrasov..." I was myself a teacher and of course have read Pushkin, Lermontov, Nekrasov. But my poems were not being published.

In later years he didn't care about publishing. Many people were writing down his songs by hand, but mainly they would copy the low grade tape recordings of his songs made during his concerts in private apartments. I used to have those early tapes. But the trembling in his voice was not due to the low quality of recording. He simply had a trembling voice (well, not all the time, only when he kept a note for a longer while, often enough though, and that was nice too ), that's how he was singing.

 

[beths-virtue]

me and my odd tastes in music... angeline, thanks for posting the boss...

and who the heck was it said someone turned down tickets to bonnie raitt?, ought to be drawn and quartered...

ok.. more songs i like, some old, some not...

i like strong songs, that make me emote..
.. now this one , is sung by bonnie raitt, but writen by someone else, not sure who.. but i still like it



there ain't no use in me trying to tell you how I feel
'cause what I feel ain't what you're feeling
I don't know what we did wrong
I just know if you come home
I ain't gonna let you break my heart again

there ain't no use in me trying to find out where you've been
where you've been ain't where I'm going
'cause if I ask you where you've been
the hurting starts and it don't end
so I ain't gonna let you break my heart again , no
I ain't gonna let you break my heart again , no o

(bridge)
tears don't become me
pain ain't my friend
it seems like you enjoy my crying , baby
you always said that I was strong
but I believe that you were wrong
lately , God knows , I have been trying

there ain't no use in you trying to kiss away the hurt , baby
'cause it hurts where it's deep down inside of me and it's hiding
if you decide you're coming home
you walk in , it won't be like before
'cause I ain't gonna let you break my heart again , no
ain't gonna let you break my heart again , no no


and two more from the lady...

2.Longing in Their Hearts
Let me tell you 'bout a friend of mine
He's a short order cook
Long on speed, short on spice
He reads his customers like a book
He's seen this, and he's done that
Now he's makin' fried eggs an art
But there's one thing he can't fix no how
There's a longing in his heart

He's tried for years to work it out
At the grill and at his home
Well he talks to his friends, talks to himself
He talks the chicken right off the bone
Talks to his woman and she understands
You know they're always eye to eye
She runs the join, They live out back
Small House under a Big sky

Well even the stars at night agree
The sky is falling apart
She knows cause she can feel it too
There's a longing in her heart
A longing in her heart
Longing in her heart

Well now you and me, we're just like them
We never wanted to be alone,
so we made a pact, sealed with desire
for a happier house and home

Only to find it doens't untie
The know where feelings die
There's a longing deep inside our hearts
And no one to tell us why


Our friends aren't looking for anything new
They wouldn't know where to look

Well her, she like running the joint
And he likes being a cook
Together they're doing very well
They're might glad they could
But there's a fire burning towards them now
Coming from a distant wood

And eve the stars at night agree
that the sky is falling apart
We know 'cause we can feel it too
There's a longing in our hearts


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

3.You

Nobody else could make me happy
No one could hurt me like you do
You were the only one That mattered

Then you were gone...Love had moved on
Left me alone thinking of...

You...There was never any other
You...and I were created to be true

Isn't it Love that keeps us breathing
Isn't it love we're sent here for
Wasn't that love that we were feeling
(That was something baby)

Deep in our soul...Deeper than we know
Keeping me holding out for

You...There was never any question
You'll be forever on my mind

You and I, we were meant to be together
True hearts in a world where love is dyin'

And I might as well have been dyin' when
We were apart
When you came back I felt the beating of my heart

You...There was never any question
You'll be forever on my mind
You and I, we were meant to be together
You...and only you

It was you...only you
You...Always you

 

[Angeline]

Bonnie Raitt is sooo good

i'll take a ticket to see her anytime. That is one strong woman with an amazing voice. I saw her and Sippie Wallace when I was in college (shortly before the war of 1812). Just wow.

Ok one more poem song. This thread is addictive!

Joni Mitchell. She can write. She did an album with Mingus. I bet Smithpeter knows that. (Hey Smithpeter, I bet I'm one of the few other people besides you on this board who knows that Mac Rebenac was Dr. John the Night Tripper. He's wonderful.)

Anyway, this lyric is so good. And it's on her album--er cd--Blue, which doesn't have a bad song on it.

A CASE OF YOU

Just before our love got lost you said,
"I am as constant as a northern star."
And I said, "Constantly in the darkness
Where's that at?
If you want me I'll be in the bar."
On the back of a cartoon coaster
In the blue TV screen light
I drew a map of Canada
Oh Canada
With your face sketched on it twice
Oh, you're in my blood like holy wine
You taste so bitter and so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you, darling
And I would still be on my feet
Oh I would still be on my feet

Oh I am a lonely painter
I live in a box of paints
I'm frightened by the devil
And I'm drawn to those ones that ain't afraid
I remember that time you told me, you said,
"Love is touching souls"
Surely you touched mine
'Cause part of you pours out of me
In these lines from time to time
Oh, you're in my blood like holy wine
You taste so bitter and so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you, darling
Still, I'd be on my feet
I would still be on my feet

I met a woman
She had a mouth like yours
She knew your life
She knew your devils and your deeds
And she said,
"Go to him, stay with him if you can
But be prepared to bleed"
Oh but you are in my blood
You're my holy wine
You're so bitter, bitter and so sweet
Oh, I could drink a case of you, darling
Still I'd be on my feet
I would still be on my feet


(It occurs to me that if the narrator of Springsteen's For You met the narrator of this song, they'd probably spontaneously combust. lol)

 

[karmadog]

Sure, Dr. John. I remember him. Wasn't he a bit player on Marcus Welby, MD? Just kidding.

Thanks for 'For You', Ange. I haven't heard that song in years.

Do you know Louis Jordan? I love that guy.

Knock Me A Kiss

I like cake
and no mistake
but baby if you insist
I'll cut out cake
just for your sake

Baby, come on and knock me a kiss

I like pie
I hope to die
Just get a load of this
When you get high
Don't glom the pie

Baby, come on and knock me a kiss

When you press your lips to mine
'Twas then I understood
They taste like candy, brandy, and wine
Peaches, bananas and everything good

I love jam
ain't no flim flam
scratch that off my list
this ain't no jam
the jam can scram

Baby, come on and knock me a kiss

When you press your sweet little lips to mine
then I understood oh yeah
taste like candy brandy and wine
peaches, bananas and everything good

I love jam
ain't no flim flam
scratch that off my list
this ain't no jam
the jam can scram

Baby, come on and knock me a kiss

Knock me a kiss

And then I love this one from Sinatra. I don't know who wrote it

Summerwind

The summerwind
came rolling in
from across the sea

It lingered there
and touched hair
and walked with me

All summer long
we sang a song
and then we strolled
that golden sand.

Two sweethearts
and the summerwind.

Like painted kites
those days and nights
they went flyin' by.

The world was new
beneath a blue
umbrella sky.

Then softer than
a piper man
one day it called to you

I lost you
I lost you to the summerwind

The autumn wind
and the winter wind
they have come and gone

but still the days
those lonely days
they go
on and on

And guess who sighs
his lullabies
through nights
that never end?

My fickle friend
the summer wind.
Warm summer wind.


I love the way that one takes the love affair from the beginning all the way to regret in under three minutes.

 

[_Land]

Don Mclean

In the autumn of 1971 Don McLean's elegiac American Pie entered the collective consciousness, and over thirty years later remains one of the most discussed, dissected and debated songs that popular music has ever produced. A cultural event at the peak of its popularity in 1972, it reached the top of the Billboard 100 charts in a matter of weeks, selling more than 3 million copies; and at eight and a half minutes long, this was no mean feat. But this was no ordinary song, either: boldly original and thematically ambitious, what set American Pie apart had a lot to do with the way we weren't entirely sure what the song was about, provoking endless debates over its epic cast of characters. And these controversies remain with us to this day.

But however open to interpretation the lyrics may have been, the song's emotional resonance was unmistakable: McLean was clearly relating a defining moment in the American experience—something had been lost, and we knew it. Opening with the death of singer Buddy Holly and ending near the tragic concert at Altamont Motor Speedway, we are able to frame the span of years the song is covering—1959 to 1970—as the "10 years we've been on our own" of the third verse. It is across this decade that the American cultural landscape changed radically, passing from the relative optimism and conformity of the 1950s and early 1960s to the rejection of these values by the various political and social movements of the mid and late 1960s.

Coming as it did near the end of this turbulent era, American Pie seemed to be speaking to the precarious position we found ourselves in, as the grand social experiments of the 1960s began collapsing under the weight of their own unrealized utopian dreams, while the quieter, hopeful world we grew up in receded into memory. And as 1970 came to a close and the world the flower children had envisioned no longer seemed viable, a sense of disillusion and loss fell over us; we weren't the people we once were. But we couldn't go home again either, having challenged the assumptions of that older order. The black and white days were over.

Bye bye, Miss American Pie.

A [G]long [D]long [Em7]time ago [Am]I can still re[C]member
how that [Em]music used to make me [D]smile And [G]I knew [D]if I had [Em7]my chance
that [Am]I could make those [C]people dance and [Em]maybe they'd be [C]happy for a [D]while.[Em]

But February [Am]made me shiver [Em]With every paper [Am]I'd deliver
[C]Bad news [G-B]on the [Am]doorstep I c[C]ouldn't take one [D]more step
I [G]can't re[D]member if I [Em]cried When I [Am7]read about his [D]widowed bride
But [G]something [D]touched me deep inside The [C]day the [D7]Music [G]Died [C-G] [G]

So
{soc}
[G]bye [C]bye Miss A[G]merican [D]Pie Drove my [G]chevy to the [C]levy But the [G]levy was [D]dry
And them [G]good old [C]boys were drinking [G]whiskey and [D]rye
Singin' [Em]this'll be the day that I [A7]die [Em]this'll be the day that I [D7]die.
{eoc}

[G]Did you write the [Am]book of love And do [C]you have faith in [Am]God above?
[Em] If the Bible [D]tells you so. Do [G]you be[D]lieve in [Em]Rock 'n Roll?
Can [Am7]music save your [C]mortal soul? And [Em]can you teach me [A7]how to dance [D]real slow?

Well, I [Em]know that you're in [D]love with him 'cause I [Em]saw you dancin' [D]in the gym
You [C]both kicked [G-B]off your [A7]shoes Man, I [C]dig those rythmny [D7]blues
I was a [G]lonely [D]teenage [Em]broncin' buck With a [Am]pink carnation and a [C]pickup truck.
But [G]I knew [D]I was [Em]out of luck The [C]day the [D7]music [G]died[C]

I started singin'
{c: chorus}

[G]Now for ten years we've been [Am]on our own And [C]moss grows fat on a [Am]rollin' stone
[Em] But that's not how it [D]used to be When the [G]jester [D]sang for the [Em]King and Queen
In a [Am7]coat he borrowed [C]from James Dean And a [Em]voice that [A7]came from [D]you and me

Oh, and [Em]while the King was [D]looking down The [Em]jester stole his [D]thorny crown
The [C]courtroom [G-B]was ad[A7]journed No [C]verdict was re[D7]turned
And while [G]Lennon [D]read a [Em]book of Marx The [Am]court kept practice [C]in the park
And [G]we sang [D]dirges [Em]in the dark The [C]day the [D7]Music [G]Died.[C]

We were singing
{c:chorus}

[G]Helter-Skelter in a [Am]summer [Am]swelter The [C]Byrds flew off with a [Am]fallout shelter
[Em]Eight Miles High and [D]falling fast It [G]landed [D]foul out [Em]on the grass
The [Am7]players tried [C]for a forward pass But the [Em]jester's [A7]on the sidelines [D]in a cast

Now the [Em]half-time air was [D]sweet perfume While the [Em]sargeants played a [D]marching tune
[C]We all [G-B]got up to [A7]dance But we [C]never got [D7]the chance
'cause the [G]players [D]tried to [Em]take the field The [Am]marching band re[C]fused to yield
[G]Do you [D]recall [Em]what was revealed the [C]day the [D7]Music [G]Died?[C] [G]

We stared singing
{c:chorus}

[G]Oh, and there we were all [Am]in one place A [C]generation [Am]Lost in Space
[Em]With no time left to [D]start again So come on, [G]Jack be nimble
[Em]Jack be quick Jack [Am7]Flash sat on a [C]candlestick 'cause [Em]fire is the [A7]Devil's only [D]friend

Oh, and [Em]as I watched him [D]on the stage My [Em]hands were clenched in [D]fists of rage
[C]No angel [G]born in [A7]hell Could [C]break that Satan's [D7]spell
And as the [G]flames climbed [D]high in[Em]to the night To [Am]light the sacri[C]fical rite
I saw [G]Satan [D]laughing [Em]with delight The [C]day the [D7]Music [G]Died [C] [G]

He was singing
{c:chorus}

I [G]met a [D]girl who [Em]sang the Blues And I [Am]asked her for some [C]happy news
But [Em]she just smiled and turned [D]away [G]I went [D]down to the [Em}sacred store
Where [Am]I heard the [G/B]music [C]years before But the [Em]man there said the [C]music wouldn't [D]play

And in the [Em]streets the [Am]children screamed The [Em]lovers cried, and the [Am]poets dreamed
But [C]not a [G]word was [Am]spoken The [C]Church bells all were [D]broken
And the[G]three men [D]I ad[Em]mire most, the [C]Father, Son and the [D7]Holy Ghost
They [G]caught the [D]last train [Em]for the coast The [C]Day the [D7]Music [G]Died.[C] [G]

And they were singing
{c:chorus}

They were singing
{c:chorus}






Also Tapestry


Tapestry


Every thread of creation is held in position
by still other strands of things living.
In an earthly tapestry hung from the skyline
of smoldering cities so gray and so vulgar,
as not to be satisfied with their own negativity
but needing to touch all the living as well.

Every breeze that blows kindly is one crystal breath
we exhale on the blue diamond heaven.
As gentle to touch as the hands of the healer.
As soft as farewells whispered over the coffin.
We're poisoned by venom with each breath we take,
from the brown sulfur chimney and the black highway snake.

Every dawn that breaks golden is held in suspension
like the yoke of the egg in albumen.
Where the birth and the death of unseen generations
are interdependent in vast orchestration
and painted in colors of tapestry thread.
When the dying are born and the living are dead.

Every pulse of your heartbeat is one liquid moment
that flows through the veins of your being.
Like a river of life flowing on since creation.
Approaching the sea with each new generation.
You're now just a stagnant and rancid disgrace
that is rapidly drowning the whole human race.

Every fish that swims silent, every bird that flies freely,
every doe that steps softly.
Every crisp leaf that falls, all the flowers that grow
on this colorful tapestry, somehow they know.
That if man is allowed to destroy all they need.
He will soon have to pay with his life, for his greed


Copyright ©1995-2002 Alan Howard, Don McLean. A BMI Licensed Site.

 

[Rybka]

The Boss

If you want to do American Pie don't forget the Boss and Blinded By The Light. Although Manford Mann did it better!

Regards, Rybka

 

[karmadog]

_Land, no offense to you, or even Don McLean, but I absolutely HATE 'American Pie'. It actually doesn't have much to do with the merits of the song. If you've ever been to a karaoke bar, you've probably noticed that some of the singers aren't very good (he understated). Well, inevitably, the worst singer in the house chooses to do 'Pie' and the damn thing is 11 minutes long! Pure torture. I wish he'd never written it.

 

[smithpeter]

cutting deeper

sorry more, I can not tolerate "the boss"
I know,
I know,
I know,
It is sacrilegious.

 

[Angeline]

You Don't Like the Boss?

Well get outta town!

Smithpeter?

It's ok to not like the Boss. (and y'know I grew up in Joisey--I went to the Stone Pony for godssake--so if I say it's ok, it's like absolution--not that I know jack about that.)

I could give you a lovely long list of the music I think sucks, some of which would make people gasp and say "That idiot! How can she not like that?"

Like the Grateful Dead. Yeah some of those songs are good, but if I hear one more person talk about them in terms of a religious experience, my head will blow up. So there!

And Land? You know I like you, but I don't like American Pie either. I prefer Dylan. There are so many great Dylan songs, it's hard to know which to put here, but I got one.

At my son's recent elementary school graduation they did a slide show of the kids with shots through the years going back to--dare I say the word--Kindergarten. They played this and I tell you I should have bought stock in Kleenex before I left my house.

Forever Young

May God bless and keep you always
May your wishes all come true
May you always do for others
And let others do for you
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every one
May you stay
Forever young

Chorus
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young

May you grow up to be righteous
May you grow up to be true
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you
May you always be courageous
Stand upright and be true
May you stay
Forever young

[Chorus]

May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
May your song always be sung
May you stay
Forever young

(Chorus)


(Gosh, I'm tearing up just thinking about it.)

 

[_Land]

Perhaps the advantage of not barhopping does have some real advantage.....I think the reason I like it so well is that it reminds me of the change that happens between Childhood, when thing were really simple, and when everything became more complex in adolesence..................... but i can understand the karaoke thing too................. Although i would rather here American Pie all 11 minutes of it then to here the first stanza of achy breaky heart

_Land, no offense to you, or even Don McLean, but I absolutely HATE 'American Pie'. It actually doesn't have much to do with the merits of the song. If you've ever been to a karaoke bar, you've probably noticed that some of the singers aren't very good (he understated). Well, inevitably, the worst singer in the house chooses to do 'Pie' and the damn thing is 11 minutes long! Pure torture. I wish he'd never written it.

 

[_Land]

Re: You Don't Like the Boss?

[

And Land? You know I like you, but I don't like American Pie either. I prefer Dylan. There are so many great Dylan songs, it's hard to know which to put here, but I got one.

At my son's recent elementary school graduation they did a slide show of the kids with shots through the years going back to--dare I say the word--Kindergarten. They played this and I tell you I should have bought stock in Kleenex before I left my house.

Forever Young

May God bless and keep you always
May your wishes all come true
May you always do for others
And let others do for you
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every one
May you stay
Forever young

Chorus
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young

May you grow up to be righteous
May you grow up to be true
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you
May you always be courageous
Stand upright and be true
May you stay
Forever young

[Chorus]

May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
May your song always be sung
May you stay
Forever young

(Chorus)


(Gosh, I'm tearing up just thinking about it.) [/B]

I love that song too, My 9,8,6 year oldsmake me feel older every day, and as i watch them try to grow up to fast i often regret my wasted youth.

 

[beths-virtue]

Re: Re: You Don't Like the Boss?

I love that song too, My 9,8,6 year oldsmake me feel older every day, and as i watch them try to grow up to fast i often regret my wasted youth.

forgiveness in advance ...
but, sorry....
i read this and ... well....
yes, perhaps its a kind of guilty pleasure, but i still like meatloaf

I remember everything!
I remember every little thing as if it happened only yesterday
I was barely seventeen and I once killed a boy with a Fender guitar
I don't remember if it was a Telecaster or a Startocaster
But I do remember that it had a heart of chrome and a voice like a horny angel!
I don't remember if it was a Telecaster or a Startocaster
But I do remember that it wasn't at all easy
It required the perfect combination of the correct power chords
And the precise angle from which to strike


The guitar bled for a week afterward and the blood
Was dark and rich like wild berries
The blood of the guitar was Chuck Berry red
The guitar bled for about a week afterward but it rung out beautifully
And I was able to play notes that I had never even heard before
So, I took my guitar and I smashed it against the wall
I smashed it against the floor
I smashed it against the body of a varsity cheerleader
I smashed it against the hood of a car
I smashed it against a 1981 Harley Davidson
The Harley howled in pain, the guitar howled in heat


And I ran up the stairs to my parents' bedroom
Mommy and Daddy were sleeping in the moonlight
Slowly I opened the door, creeping in the shadows
Right up to the foot of their bed
I raised the guitar high above my head
And just as I was about to bring the guitar crashing down upon the centre of the bed
My father woke up screaming
"Stop! Wait a minute! Stop it boy! What do you think you're doing?
That's no way to treat an expensive musical instrument!"
And I said "God dammit Daddy! You know I love you
but you've got a hell of a lot to learn about rock and roll!"

Wasted youth! Wasted youth!

I know that I will never be politically correct
And I don't give a damn about my lack of etiquette
As far as I'm concerned, the world could still be flat
And if the thrill is gone, then it's time to take it back
If the thrill is gone, then it's time to take it back!!

Who am I? Why am I here? Forget the questions, someone gimme another beer
What's the meaning of life, what's the meaning of it all?
You gotta learn to dance before you learn to crawl
You gotta learn to dance before you learn to crawl!!

So sign up all you raw recruits, throw away those designer suits
You got your weapons cocked, your targets in your sights
There's a party raging somewhere in the world
You gotta serve your country, gotta service your girl
You're all enlisted in the armies of the night

And I ain't in it for the power, and I ain't in it for the health
I ain't in it for the glory of anything at all
And I sure ain't in it for the wealth
But I'm in it 'til it's over and I just can't stop
If you wanna get it done, you gotta do it yourself
And I like my music like I like my life
Everything louder than everything else
Wasted youth! Wasted youth! Wasted youth! Wasted youth!

They got a file on me and it's a mile long
And they say that they've got all of the proof
That I'm just another case of arrested development
And just another wasted youth

They say that I'm in need of some radical discipline
They say I've gotta face the truth
That I'm just another case of arrested development
And just another wasted youth

They say I'm wild and I'm reckless, I should be acting my age
I'm an impressionable child in a tumultuous world
And they say I'm at a difficult stage

But it seems to me to the contrary
Of all the crap they're going to put on the page
That a wasted youth is better by far than a wise and productive old age
A wasted youth is better by far than a wise and productive old age

If you want my views of history then there's something you should know
The three men I admire most are Curly, Larry and Moe!
If you don't worry 'bout the future, sooner or later it's the past
And if they say the thrill is gone, then it's time to take it back
If the thrill is gone, then it's time to take it back

So sign up all you raw recruits, throw away all those two-bit suits
You got your weapons cocked, your targets in your sights
There's a party raging somewhere in the world
You gotta serve your country, gotta service your girl
You're all inducted in the armies of the night

And I ain't in it for the power, and I ain't in it for the health
I ain't in it for the glory of anything at all
And I sure ain't in it for the wealth
But I'm in it till it's over and I just can't stop
If you wanna get it done, you gotta fight for yourself
And I like my music like I like my life

meatloaf

how can anyone at over 40, still be scraming ballads of teenage angst ,
who cares...
and please, dont tell me , you havent ever heard the song paradise by the dashboard light, and thought of the teen fumblings in the cars parekd out in the local lovers lane...

 

[_Land]

You can like meatloaf if i can like pavorati deal?
LOL