- Oast Houses
I could show you stuff ‘round here perchance might make you pause’ I could take you walking. Show you certain things that move like wind upon the conifers, Hear the seasons whispering.I could show you oast houses, look like crooked witches’ hats, And moss-broken barns frequented largely by stray cats, A kiln no one thought was there, a willow like and woman’s tear; There’s a hill outside of Gloucester like the small of your backSwooping like the small of your back.I could show you boughs of trees like great, commodious bones, Weathered hearts a-beating. Fisher planks spread nimble o’er a river’s width of stepping stones,Waves un-tethered moving.
Do not be so timid, put the water to your toes, Move out the rocks shining green their weedy throws Like you’ve never done before, the glimmer of buried ore, The waves across the pebbles like your body ‘neath your clothes,
Moving like your skin beneath your clothes.
I could show you stones that ache with years of being still, In the fields just standing. Spider webs are holding all the dew’s autumnal rill,
All the leaves are burning.
A trinity of hours, a through-England race Make up the miles and darted things less commonplace Like the burning of bonfires, the roses and tangled briars, The sap from off the sapling like my blood toward my face,
Rising like my blood toward my face.
I could show you stuff ‘round here perchance might make you pause’
I could take you walking. - The Dance
Grandmother, young Mother, Mother-to-be Do you rise so cautiously? See the lighthouse, take your stance Take a partner, Take a partner, Take a partner, join the dance.“I saw the fortune teller,” said she, “He laid it all in front of me, Mirrors smoking, eyes askance, Take a partner, Take a partner,Take a partner, join the dance.”But I woke up to a fever It was redder than blossom Woke to uncertainty snatching the bosom Wake to the shackle or wake to the key,Wake to the pangs of identity.
Far from the maddening moment stands She, Choices lined so markedly, Maybe moonlight, maybe chance, Take a partner, Take a partner,
Take a partner, join the dance
- Bird Song
Says the Robin as he flew, “When I was a young man I’d choose two, And if one didn’t love me, the other one would, Now, don’t you think my notion is good?”Says the Blackbird to the Crow, “What makes the white folks hate us so? For ever since old Adam was bornIt’s been our trade to hoe up corn.”“Hoots!” say the Owl with his head so white, “A lonesome day and a lonesome night, I thought I heard some pretty girl sayShe’d court all night and sleep all day.”
“Oh, no, no, no!” cried the Turtledove, “That ain’t no way for you to gain his love. If you want to make him your heart’s delight
You must keep him awake by day and by night.”
Says the Robin as he flew, “When I was a young man I’d choose two, And if one didn’t love me, the other one would,
Now, don’t you think my notion is good?”
- Pomegranate
When in windy she walks me out my door Into springtime, ring-a-ling time, tumbling from her pinafore, Her keepsakes frame the blossom, Sunny shot through dusky drear, And I want her more, And I want her still, And I want her forthright this time each year.When she tells me of maybe-so’s fallin’ around In the midnight, in the half-light, shakin’ from her eiderdown, Her breath arrives sirocco, Maple to her skin adhere, And I want her more, And I want her still,And I want her forthright this time each year.Oh, the pomegranate, she’s the bitterest of fruits, Contrariwise to what you may believe, Sunrise tequila’d wistful regret sown in its juiceThat flows from chin to toe each time you leave.
Dappled amber, she paints me southern sky, When tomorrows and the sorrows framed in her bye-byes, November flows remorseless, Red from mortal wounds of May, And I want her more, And I want her still,
And I want her more each waking day,
Just to hold her close, And to pull her near,
And I want her forthright this time each year.
- Merciful Heavens
How’m I gonna make nice if the barber takes my tresses? Lord, that’s a given and, Merciful Heavens, the moths have got my dresses; They say we had a revolution, and I’m wondering where I been; All I know is Martin’s coming home and I’ve got to catch the eye of him.How’m I gonna make right all these wrongs that so confound me? Lord, I have striven but, Merciful Heavens, still they will abound me; My hands all gnarled from the coal shed, hair already worn thin,And it scares me so, for Martin’s coming home, and I’ve got to catch the eye of him.Call me homely, I know they do, Saints bestow me eyes of powder blue Fair complexion, sweet inflection, And a dimple too; I am want of these things;I am want of these things.
How’m I gonna compete with the neighbor girls and their fashions? Sister, help to pinch my cheek, put some rouge into this ashen; They say the revolution seen enough blood swim;
Don’t care none, Martin’s coming home, my blood is flowing for him.
How’m I gonna make nice if the barber takes my tresses? Lord, that’s a given and, Merciful Heavens, the moths have got my dresses; They say we had a revolution, and I’m wondering where I been;
All I know is Martin’s coming home and I’ve got to catch the eye of him.
- The Archer
Red Ribbons strung around a lighthouse Ten thousand feathers at the helm of an arrow Eyes to the stars that say The Archer All upon the needing youWe tied our targets to a windmill’s arm And couldn’t train our aims on you I razed my mansion to the sandy groundAll upon the needing youFour colours crimson at the hillside’s brow Red wine or whiskey sipped from a chipped coffee cup We took all the lampshades from the lightbulbs’ eyesAll upon the needing you
Five horses tethered to the muzzled roll, Along came six with tricks all so sleeveless, Breathless at the mounting of the mountaintop,
All upon the needing you.
- See How the Bronze Horse Go
Take out the stone from the valley’s mouth, See how the broad brook flow, Take out the bridle and wash out its mouth, See how the bronze horse go,Take out the plough from the shoulder’s weight, See how the oxen won’t tow, Take off the reigns and open the gate, See how the bronze horse go,See how the bronze horse go.Chorus: Cruel rider, cruel rider, See the horizon and know, Cruel rider, cruel rider,See how the bronze horse go.
Die for the woman, cry out for her love, See how the passions they stow, Retire all the whip crack and take off the glove,
See how the bronze horse go.
See the swallow careen through the trees, See from the winters in snow, See from the mercy and down on your knees, See how the bronze horse go,
See how the bronze horse go.
Chorus
Just lie o’er the saddle and let yourself be, Feel how the agonies slow, See yourself humble and know you are free,
See how the bronze horse go.
How low now the head, see the bend of the ears, Feel the footsteps solemn flow, Come down from his back; you have rode him for years, See how the bronze horse go,
See how the bronze horse go.
- Tampa Red (Kerrville Folk Festival Winning Song)
Tampa Red put his National away, Hung up his coat tails and his shirt by the door, And he stared at her gold name, and he looked at her picture, Said, “Frances, I can’t do this no more, I can’t do this no more.”Tampa Red cried in church on a Sunday, Was lost Monday morning with a bet twice as wide, And he sat in his kitchen, couldn’t stomach the coffee,And he looked in the mailbox, only bad news inside,Chorus: Crying, “Take me back to Georgia where the cotton fields sing The blues blow so carnal, oh, and I am the king, Hokum so fine, sweet Georgia moonshine,Whippoorwill blue on the wing.”
Now Tampa Red sits up late on a Friday, TV lights blaring, the nurses have gone home, And nobody’s calling, nobody left no message, Just Tampa and his memory alone,
Tampa and his memory alone,
For it was you in each blue note, it was you in each song, The soul of this National was the fire in your eyes, It was you in each dance floor, and the suits I was wearing,
You were each woman that I’d rhapsodize,
Chorus
Tampa Red put his National away, Hung up his coat tails and his shirt by the door, And stared at her gold name, and he looked at her picture,
Said, “Frances, I can’t do this no more,”
Chorus
Whippoorwill blue on the wing. - Happy Song for Baltimore
And when I get to Baltimore gonna draw me out a heavy sigh, And when she sees the mess I’m in, gonna hang me out to dry; Tempers bay when soft she whispers, the sleeping dogs all lie, So I’m going back to Baltimore, tear drops in my eye.She cook fine beans and cornbread mash, and her kettle’s always on the boil, Her garden soothes when first I run my fingers through her soil; If I break down, as I am prone to, I know she’ll change my oil,So I’m going back to Baltimore, never more will I toil.Circle, circle, circle, dot; she dances lie the tall maypole; She in the circle and I ain’t not; Lord, make to shine my soul; Through her kindness he will always remind me of my role,So I’m going back to Baltimore, she gonna make me whole.
- Cotton Dress Love Song
Come to me in the cool of a cotton dress, Billowed sheer in the sun is the fit that’s best, Do the crossword waiting on a train, Raise the paper high to summer rain.Come to me in the wind-swept hollow, Sunday morning start, Climb into the taxi I’ll arrange, Come with all the sweetness I have harbored in my heart,Let me know that sometimes things can change.Come to me when my spirit’s in a mess, With your balmy humour’s heat and a cotton dress, In eagerness I’m waiting at my gateAnd even lateness I will tolerate.
Come to me when February’s faded springtime into March, Let me know the wonderments you’ve had, Come to me whose thirst so desperate lingers to be parched,
Show me that things cannot be so bad.
And if the train lets you down, as trains are prone to,
Have no fear, darling, think it through…You could come to me in the rust of an old sedan, Quite low key, honey, just as you had planned, The house is big and the rooms are seldom full,
You just wear that dress woven wild with slavery’s wool,
So come to me, darling, quickly as you can, For man needs woman and I hope you need this man, Come to me in the cool of a cotton dress,
Billowed sheer in the sun is the fit that’s best.
- Red’s On the Bed
Red’s on bed in the shape of ardor Loomed from the cotton of exalted water Looks like beulah but it smell like sin Open up the door, honey, come on in Red’s on the bed in the shape of ardorRed’s on the room with the big box beating Trenched in loam, your touch entreating Tempered to the treaties of Romeo’s schemes Mirrored in the blushing there at fevered dreamsRed’s on the room with the big box beatingRed’s on a roll like the aisles at prom time Shinin’ from the silver sheen and shaken from the night time She open all the curtain let the day break in She took me down to the roses where the heart red swimRed’s on a roll like the aisles at prom time
Red’s on the checking of the traveler’s bindle Prickin’ of the finger on the sleeper’s spindle Barrellin’ round the labyrinth of an old dirt road Bearin’ up a burden lookin’ to unload
Red’s on the checking of the traveler’s bindle
Think of danger, think of fashion Think of fondness, honey, not obsession Think of colour, baby, think of passion
Think of colour, baby, think of passion
Divining red from your salted finger Spring from a source deemed well at singing Down in the darkness where the shadows roll Shackled to the shifting of the undertow
Red’s on the bed with your salted finger
Red’s on bed in the shape of ardor Loomed from the cotton of exultant water It looks like beulah but it smell like sin You just open up the door, honey, come on in
Red’s on the bed in the shape of ardor
- One by One, the Buffalo
See the Buffalo fall together in a row, One by one, falling down, See the Skeletons strewn white below the Blackfoot runs Where once had fell the BuffaloSee the hollowed caves, dark and open to the braves When came snow, falling down Overheard, the plunge, sweeping danger like an iron hingeOne by one, the BuffaloAnd down, down, down, down and down we go Down, down, down, down and down we goOne by one….
See Many Mules crying silent from the spools Of ransacked plains and Diaspora See the hills of red bearing witness to tomorrow’s dead
One by one, the Buffalo
Hear the hollow bone beating hungry on the stone. The many, many feet all flocked and flying, Hear the flinch of steel, arrowed darkly through the smoke and teal,
Skin and bone, the Buffalo
And down, down, down, down and down we go Down, down, down, down and down we go
One by one….
See the ridge of cloud, broken yellow by the corn flour shroud Forming shapes, the Buffalo Feel the wisp of wind pull apart the forms and bear them to an ending, One by one, the Buffalo,
One by one, the Buffalo