5-1-97
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
Padd’ling down the stream of life a gentle current flows.
We’re resting on the sun beams arms while summer breezes blow
The rocks are getting bigger now, a faint roar fills my ears
but the water fall is way down stream so pass another beer.
(Chorus)
Ain’t life wonderful. Ain’t life gay.
Ain’t life just the thing to pass the time away.
One step forward and two steps back. We dance our lives away.
Plenty of pain may know my name but I’m feeling fine today.
Sunday mornin’ ten A.M singin’ in the Baptist choir.
Harmony in four parts sets my soul on fire.
First we sing “I’ll Fly Away,” then “Turn Your Radio On”,
while the landfill’s overflowing and the ozone’s nearly gone. (Chorus)
Mankind treads on timeless swells, Poseidon’s salty realm.
Life’s sou’easter whispers to our captain at the helm.
The sunrise burns a glowing red, he rings Titanic’s bell.
Never mind the icebergs. He says, “trust me, all is well.” (Chorus)
Flying twice the speed of light - the colors
are so clear.
My mind just keeps expanding. The Comet must be near.
This time I’m really gonna change. I’ve thrown away my fear.
Just pile high my self-help books. I’ll climb right out of here. (Chorus)
7/7/97
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
For Nana Bell and Bell Clan Reunion July 28, 1997
A child floats on a feather cloud. The night train sings her a tune.
Time’s fidd’ler plays a harmony that echos off the moon.
It’s a sad lament for the midnight cargo, black and shiny bright.
But the bitter part of the mountain’s heart won’t find her dream tonight.
(Chorus)
She’s dancing with the Allegany moon.
A light so soft and gentle fills the cabin room.
She twirls in time to the lilac’s rhyme.
It’s a soft sweet lullaby that she croons.
The child now a maiden is kissed by the mountain rain.
Springtime shares her warm embrace. The dark moon calls her name.
Her laddie dances to the heart’s demand. Time’s fidd’ler calls the tune.
Fears shadow flees the brightness of the Allegany moon.
(Chorus)
Her springtime fades to summer, then leaves begin to fall
The moonlight shadows waltz across the holler dusk to dawn.
She wrestled hope from the mountains heart. It’s price her laddie true.
Now the fidd’ler calls the last dance. She says “play Shoo-la-roon”
(Chorus)
11-13-96
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
Blackbird sittin’ in a sycamore tree, singing to you and singin’ to me
Sure he’s a rascal but it sounds like fun,
the places he’ll show us before this day is done
He promises we’ll go before the day is done
(Chorus)
Like watchin’ as the fid’ler rosin’s up his bow,
feelin’ the tingle way down in my toes
or the night before Santa and his reindeer run,
The prickley tickles dance inside and sleep won’t come
Candy tastes better with the wrapper on.
The kiss most sweet when your lover’s gone
The wine most mellow before you sip.
The cliffs the tallest before your fingers slip
You fall the furthest before you lose your grip. (Chorus)
Bridge
Monsters hiding underneath your bed. The whispers dance inside your head
Goblin lurkin’ in the closet dark. Bony fingers close around your heart
Your fear’s the strongest before your nightmare
starts. (Chorus)
The sweet’s more sweet, the dread more deep.
Then the dream and daylight meet
and you dance with the shadow when the moonlight flees
and ride the rainbow when the storm clouds leave
from the space ‘tween tick and tock before you sneeze. (Chorus)
The Armadillo Song (Running
From the Darkness)
2-19-94
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
Armadillo dances in the headlights glare,
Come the daylight on the blacktop and he’ll still be there
Right beside the possum who’s right beside the deer
who’s right next to the raccoon and that empty can of beer
Lost souls dancing to the desert’s delight in the full moon’s ghostly glare.
Dancing to the tune of the coyote’s wail
Prisoners in a world with no judge, no bond, no bail. They’re
(Chorus)
Praying like pris’ners in a chain gang line for the midnight specials
light
A pardon from the old straw boss’s glare.
Running from the darkness, victims of their fright
The taste of freedom was in their eyes as they embraced the light,
but the promise failed tonight
Old black crow in the china berry tree
He’s calling out to Matthew and he’s calling to me
Soaring with the sunrise, the dream a thin disguise,
Hear his song just float along and see how high he flies
He flies beyond the lost pine, past the rivers bend, to the deserts blacktop
trail
Discovering the bounty of the midnight grail,
Singing out his freedom’s song to souls so light and pale. They’re
Chorus
Silent night - moon so bright - we're playing gin rummy by the coleman’s
light.
Easy come, you said it’s easy go.
You say it’s just a game but you won’t let go.
Two lost souls dancing in the campfires glare and the moons unblinking stare.
Dancing to the tune of the coyote’s wail
Pris’ners in a world with no judge - no bond - no bail.
We’re
Chorus
Starlight shining through the bon fire’s lens.
It dances to and fro as the light and shadow blends
Cedar smoke dances in the bright moonlight smelling so sweet, I’m feeing so
right
I fly beyond the Lost Pines, past the river’s bend, to the desert’s black top
trail
Discovering the freedom of the midnight grail.
Singing out a brand new song - my light is inside and won’t fail
Chorus
Armadillo dances in the headlights glare -
come daylight on the black top and he’ll still be there
12-19-93
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
He stands there dark and handsome — silent, self assured.
The center of attention — his voice a velvet lure.
The eager gather ‘round him like moth’s drawn to the flame.
For each he wears a diff’rent face – for each a diff’rent name.
He tricks them out of hopes and fears. Their life’s pure energy.
He takes all that they offer him. He’s a sneaky charming thief.
Enveloped in darkness – the sorcerer’s delight.
The stolen power feeds him and he’s growing strong tonight.
From the center of the darkness a voice calls out his name.
A child enters holding high a flickering candle flame.
The child sings a gentle song. One pure and unrefined.
Then walks up to the sorcerer his intentions undefined.
Some call the sorcerer evil –some cry and run away.
Some deny the power – some curse, some pray.
Some will beg for mercy. Fear feeds the sorcerers heart.
Some seduced by power are swallowed by the dark.
Where they’re waiting for the battle’s start —
and yes the battle is about to start.
The candle’s flame burns brightly. The color of a gold doubloon.
The child cries, “It hurts my eyes like the sunshine bright as noon.”
He says “Dark sir I need your help. There seems no need to fight.
I’ll share my piece of daylight – if you’ll share with me your night.”
“And I know you have to share your night.”
Light without the shadow blinds the eye that looks.
Fire without a cool breeze – burns the broth it cooks.
And what we share of value is neither kept nor given away.
The doorway lies ‘tween dark and light to a promised peaceful day.
Where the brand new world awaits.
Shadows pieced together – like a fine old patchwork quilt,
That covers up the dreamer like a flooding river’s silt.
Then seed sowed in that fertile soil – rest so silently.
Till they reach out for the sunlight as they grow in you and me.
Hope about the future and hope for mother earth
And hope for a balance found in time to save the child’s truth.
Listen to the child’s truth. Sing the child’s truth.
2-18-93 (A harp)
Words © by Charles Stacey
Music © by Alan Frost and Charles Stacey
Measuring the dance floor – circling the moment – lost in her own heartbeat-
Drowning in the chorus of the voices in her head. Words of warning that they said.
Riding the blue norther – flowing with it’s fury –
She feels it in her heart – the cold, dark, powerless part.
(Chorus)
She’s seen him there before – all alone across the floor.
Surrounded by the swirl, lonely boy and lonely girl.
Emotions reins held tight – she’s so desperate to be
right.
The hour glass is filling – so much risk in being
willing.
To dance again tonight.
Blooming like a flower – their small talk fills the hour –
A nervous conversation becomes an invitation –
Neither sure just what to say. Will the other run away.
The evening star shines brightly – she holds his promise tightly –
She feels it in her heart. The cold, dark, powerless
part.
(Chorus)
Can she trust the hand that reaches past the lesson
mem’ry teaches.
The futures gentle voice offers her a choice.
To step inside his arms and face her fathers threats
of harm.
The mem-o-ry is chilling – so much risk in being
willing
To dance again tonight.
She listens to her heartbeat - Then gazes in the mirror she see’s behind his eyes.
So much more powerful than lies. Riding the blue norther – flowing with its fury –
It moves her past the pain. The storm becomes a soothing rain.
Love’s first glimmer starts inside her adolescent
heart.
She earned a second chance to be a dancer out of
trance.
She found somebody there with a gentle word to share.
She’ll reach out one more time now protected from the
crime.
And rest in gentle arms.
2-28-91
Words and Music © Charles Stacey
A land of desperation - illusion’s barren waste - shifting sands where a green tree once grew tall.
She’s trapped within the waste land in a meadow once so green.This land was rich – this place once full of dreams.
Living on the razor’s edge – the cold steel cuts so deep.On silent steps – comes the thief – to steal her grief.
She takes me to the place she ran to hide out from her fear – An island in a river of uncried tears.
The land became her prison – her tear drops turned to dust – the blinding sun burns down now in her dream.
She’s living on the razor’s edge – it’s cold steel cuts so deep.On silent steps – comes the thief – to steal her grief.
A song so sad and lonesome like a coyote’s mournful call.A green leaf turns to red and then it falls.
Spring became the summer, then surrendered to the fall – Still no one heard her song sung soft and low.
Living on illusion’s edge – it’s cold steel cuts so deep.On silent steps – comes the thief – to steal her grief.
A gentle beast of burden loaded with the other’s shame – the pauper pays the demon’s debt with pain.
Real or flight of fancy, the dream turned inside out – Does the voice she hears inside her tell the truth.
Memory like the razor’s edge – it’s cold steel cuts so deep.On silent steps – comes the thief – to steal her grief.
It’s a dream land found within a dream – A world inside a world – A winter scene like salve that cools the burn.
A puppet moves on silver strings of shame, and hurt, and loss and performs a dance of anger, pain and fear.
The dance her dream – she feels the grief – So sharp it cuts the strings.On silent steps – flees her thief – pursued by grief.
6-17-94
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
Bullfrog singin’ to the silver moon, Uh Huh, Oh Yea!
Bullfrog singin’ to the silver moon, uh huh, oh yea!
Spirits gather in the fading light, whispering their promise on this solstice
night
Hidden in the shadows ‘tween the drummers beat, their laughter heard in the
dripping springs
The summer king waits as the bullfrog sings, uh huh, oh yea!
Light plays off the waters face and dances in the trees
And sings along with the waterfall on this summer solstice eve
Bon fires dot the meadow, there’s a steady drumming beat.
It’s the ageless call of the rose and thorn, the circle is complete
(Instrumental Ride)
Firefly dances with the evening star, Uh Huh, Oh Yea.
Firefly dances with the evening star, Uh Huh, Oh Yea
Like Faeries dancing in the campfire’s light,
They’re moving so softly on this solstice night
Then hiding in the shadows ‘tween the drummers beat,
Their laughter heard in the dripping springs
The summer king dances as the bull frog sings, Uh Huh, Oh Yea
Pagan’s chanting a solstice song, Uh Huh, Oh Yea.
Pagan’s chanting a solstice song, Uh Huh, Oh Yea
While the fireflies dance in the campfire’s light
And the spirits whisper that the summer is nigh
Moving to the rhythms of the drummers beat, a magic circle cast by dancing feet
The summer king is crowned as the bullfrog sings, Uh Huh, Oh Yea
One foot in the present - A bridge across beyond.
Dancing there in never land where time just can’t be found
Follow the stream as it rushes down and hear the water sing.
I’m floating on the current and surrender to the dream.
(Instrumental Ride)
(Repeat 1st Verse)
12-12-94
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
The sun child’s journey takes him back across the sunless sea.
He bears the hopes of many in his pure sim-plici-ty
A beacon at the center - the wheel of life goes round
Joy is born of darkness - seeds grow in winters ground
(Chorus)
His name some call the Christ child -- some call an older name.
He’s the winter solstice promise
The timeless candle’s flame. This child of many names
The taste of death is salty -- of life is honey sweet.
So we leave the fear in darkness and the sun’s bright hope we greet
Innocence reborn to grow -- the spiral dance goes on.
Mothers womb bears precious fruit -- earth’s sweet timeless song
(Chorus)
The winter sun plays tug of war with the north winds chilly hands.
The clouds fly over deep blue sky- the granite mountain stands
A promise born in innocence held safe through the longest night.
The triumph of the solstice -- Born in the suns warm light
(Chorus)
2-13-94
Words by © Holli Bara
Music © by Charles Stacey & Alan Frost
Azure eyes and purple skies call me home.
Thru the window to a mem’ry I can call my own
Your whisper sees I’m falling down inside the dream.
Caught in time by the missing rhyme. Cradled in the weave.
(Chorus)
You touch me and I remember how we danced above the moon.
You hold me and I remember how it ended all too soon.
Together -- once -- we were dolphins in the sky.
Together once -- we were children who could fly.
The flame it calls our name like a siren’s song.
We meet there in the light our power growing strong.
A time that’s out of mind -- the body dreamt away.
Then we cry and say good-bye just wishing we could stay.
(Chorus) (instrumental of verse then repeat chorus)
(Bridge)
Hold on to the sight. Mold it with your light.
Set the clay down to dry -- while we take off for the sky.
(Chorus)
8-26-94
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
Time is a river that sweeps me away, yet flows in a circle as the wheel
marks my days
From Derry to Armagh on down to Bantry Bay,
Circles built from the rivers stones - the sent’nals ancient face Watch the
child at play.
(Chorus)
Like a pebble in times river, were polished by the stream.
Tumbled by the current to an incandescent gleam.
At the mercy of the river, yet determining its flow.
Stones that formed our circles sang the rivers timeless song. The
child sang along
Then a stranger from the sunrise landed on our shores.
He drove the snakes from Erin and drove our history from our souls.
Rocks stolen from our circles built cathedrals of stone.
Mortar made with blood and the dust from our bones. Built the strangers
home.
(Chorus)
Like a pebble in times river, were polished by the stream.
Tumbled by the current to an incandescent gleam.
At the mercy of the river, yet determining its flow.
Stones in the cathedral tall from our circles stones did grow.
The winds of change they blow.
Figures round a peat fire tend a child’s broken bones.
His mother died protecting him from stones the mob had thrown.
He’s paying with his pain for something someone else believed.
Asked to cry the tears for someone else’s grief.
How long will our children bleed.
(Chorus)
Like a pebble in times river, were polished by the stream.
Tumbled by the current to an incandescent gleam.
At the mercy of the river, yet determining its flow.
Stones in the cathedral tall from our circles stones did grow.
Where did their healing powers go.
(Bridge)
The child grew to manhood among the stones of his em’rald isle.
He learned their ancient language and mourned his mothers smile.
The jagged rock he knew as hate was tumbled smooth by the river of the night.
He held his mothers healing stones and then he found his mothers sight.
Then built a circle with stones of light
(Chorus)
Like a pebble in times river, were polished by the stream.
Tumbled by the current to an incandescent gleam.
At the mercy of the river, yet determining its flow.
Stones that formed our circles and the stones of hate mobs throw
Stone circles on a spiral road.
2/27/95
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
Corn King, Sun King, Bringer of Life -- The planter of the seed
Rose buds formed your summer crown -- Thorns stayed while the blossoms fleed
Golden grain stands ready to feel the reaper pass --
Riches to the storehouse -- brandy in the flask
(Chorus)
So circle up the dancers -- the harvest moon is high
Toast Lugh of the Long Arm for soon the geese will fly
And Lugh will leave for Tir Na Nog so cheer his kingly fate
Roast the corn -- sing your songs -- feast and celebrate
See the corn doll dancing in the bon fires heat
The circle’s ancient rhythms speak through festive feet
Flames dance round the corn doll -- then reach and touch the sky
Death connects the spiral steps to life through you and
I
(Chorus)
Children of the Emerald Isle - Come from far and near
Dannan and the Firbog and the wise ones re-appear
Gathered for the harvest -- the wheel again turns round
Life and death in balance -- so make a joyful sound
and (Chorus)
Corn King, Sun King, Bringer of Life -- The planter of the seed
Rose buds formed your summer crown -- Thorns stayed while the blossoms fleed
Golden grain stands ready to feel the reaper pass --
Riches to the storehouse -- brandy in the flask
(Chorus)
Ballad of Sally Jean (Coletto Creek)
6-11-94
Words by © Charles Stacey
Music © by Alan Frost & Charles Stacey
Sally Jean was a good girl - just never really fit.
The town folks prayed she’d find her way but they gossiped just a bit
They said it’s really such a shame for one so sweet and fair
to waste those eyes of azure blue and silky auburn hair
(Chorus)
Life here never seems to change for better or for worse.
It’s an old familiar chorus, just add another verse
Coletto Creek is runnin’ full - tuggin’ at it’s banks,
like Friday night on Main Street and the four light circle dance
And the old folks at the Dairy Queen watch the cars parade
and feed the grand illusion and fear the futures face
So Sally gathered up her dreams and packed her bags to leave
“Please don’t go” a few had begged but they all had sighed relief
When she headed north up one nineteen away from Coletto Creek
Sally moved to Houston town and made herself a name,
Spelled out bright in the marquee lights, she claimed her bit of fame
But gossip on the night wind was a tide she couldn’t stem.
The city wags said stay away, Sally’s one of . . .
them Chorus
So a feeling trickled down her throat like sweat in the warm night air.
Coletto Creek was calling out and promised refuge there
The tune it sang was oh so sweet - a soft seductive song.
The town’s refrain - ignore your pain you’ve hidden for so long
Sally’s mind protested - “you can’t go home again”.
But a voice so clear it found her ear, her tear became a grin
If it’s truth were here a tellin’, if the truth be truly know.
Forget return you never leave no matter where you go Chorus
Sally Jean was a good Girl.
7/16/96
for
the Bell family reunion 1996
Words © by Charles Stacey and Cynthia Whiddon Green
Music © by Charles Stacey
Both sides of the mirror. Head wrestles heart.
Beat the drum slowly as dancers keep time
To the turn of the wheel and
the fates spinning rhyme.
Chorus
Life’s tree majestic,
towering tall –
Spring blossoms bloom as
autumn leaves fall.
Layer on layer the rings
tell their tale –
Roots to the ground and
branch to the gale.
Sons and their fathers dance with the moon
And sing the refrain to life’s ancient tune.
Each branch connected and fed by the earth –
A mem’ry revealed in the seed
of their birth. Chorus
Mothers and daughters, fathers and sons –
An intricate dance that has always been done.
Roots and the leaves – darkness and light –
Sun and the moon – fear and
delight Chorus
Comedy, tragedy, pleasure, and pain –
Life ventures out past the losses and gains,
And reaches to touch beyond sorrow and care
To celebrate life in the
moments we share Chorus
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
7-30-88
The black eyed susan’s wave to me. They say a cheery “hi”.
The hick’ry shares her cool green shade and soothes my burnin’ eyes.
The crickets song tries to hypnotize. The lazy stream steals the blue of the sky.
The summer strums her song so softly on the Cookson Hills
(Chorus)
These hills gave life for a thousand years – paid with a trail of tears.
A land of plenty, of hopes and dreams.
A heart of flint but a soul — soft green
The hawk climbs the skyways spiral stairs.
The clouds dance like marshmallow mimes.
Silent wings rest on sultry air, like a whispered lullaby.
The crows harmonize with the bumble bee’s buzzin’.
The wind chimes promise that evening’s commin’.
The back porch shade is so cool in the Cookson Hills. (Chorus)
The dance of the hummin’ bird stirs the air – a ballet of colorful flight.
The butterfly free of thought or care with no need for laws or might.
The milkweed shows off her regal plumes. The colors give no hint of winter’s gloom.
The sparrows in the sassafras rejoice in the Cookson
Hills. (Chorus)
A soft breeze carries me back in time. I gently close my eyes.
The face of my long lost first true love takes form in my tumblin’ mind.
The rosy haze of long ago. So easy it seemed when I didn’t know.
Life can be bittersweet here in
the Cookson Hills. (Chorus)
Words & Music © by Charles Stacey
7-4-88
He gives me a wink of his eye (spoken) I SPY
(Chorus)
He says, “Sign right here, Don’t mind the cost.
Tomorrow may never come.
Look into my eyes my boy – I’ll stop the setting sun.”
A mist rolls in, I feel a chill, a cloud passes over the moon. A Darkness grips my soul real tight.
I'm afraid of the gathering gloom (spoken) LIKE
DOOM (Chorus)
His smile pushes my feeling back, his hand holds mine so tight. “I know your wants and wishes boy,
I can make you feel all right. (spoken) ALL
NIGHT (Chorus)
An old man limps up next to me, a scary fearsome sight. No smiling eyes or hand shakes.
He says, “don’t fear the night.” (spoken) THAT’S
RIGHT
(Chorus)
The dark you fear so sign right here.
But what of tomorrows sight.
Without darkness there’s no hope for day.
No chance of mornings light (spoken) SO BRIGHT
The darkness draws around me. The two men’s faces glow.
The old one says, “I win, you lose.”
The young one says, “I know. Let’s go.”
(Chorus)
He says, “Sign right here, Don’t mind the cost.
Tomorrow may never come.
Look into my eyes my boy – I’ll stop the setting sun.”
The two men walk away from me as down the road they stroll.
Hand in hand the good and the bad.
One light, one dark, one goal…one soul.
(Chorus)
The dark you fear so sign right here. But what of
tomorrows sight.
Without darkness there’s no hope for day.
No chance of mornings light (spoken) SO BRIGHT
Crystal Desert
Christmas 1987
Words & Music © By Charles Stacey
The yucca’s clothed in crystal and bathed in the chilled moonlight.
The spirits of the ageless warriors that inhabit this shadowy land
Fill the night wind with their mournful cries
And reach with their bony hands.
The wind tugs at the steering wheel –
The desert shines silver and blue.
The snow holds a magic that tingles and pleases
The world’s a surrealist’s view.
The cold works magic by freezing the beauty trapped in a drop of rain.
No longer a messenger of darkness, now the warriors glad refrain
A shadow dissolves in a flash of light.
The moon in the icicle's eye is magnified to brilliance.
The landscape breathes and sighs.
The juniper stands a lonely guard, Its uniform a dusty white.
The saw grass glows with a silver glaze. The face in the mountain smiles.
A dagger of ice on the creosote bush succumbs to the warming sun.
Like a piece of crystal carelessly held. Like a bottle shot with a gun.
The monotone brown of the desert now a ballroom of crystal and white.
The piñon dances a two-step in a dress made for only one night.
The interstate moves like a ribbon. A magic carpet in a fairy tale world.
Moving through then away from the light.
My feelings spin and twirl.
I move from the spirit’s world of joy once again to the dusty floor.
The pain of the wandering warrior. Reality the rule once more.
The memory of beauty holds me tight.
The face of god seems plain. Understanding the truth in the blink of an eye.
The insanity of being sane.
The world turned topsy-. Nothing quite as it appears.
The truth revealed through a quiet sense – A memory I can only feel.
7-30-89
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
Will I ever find a love and teach me how to Fly?
Will I ever be like them and run just like the wind?
Will I ever be a dad with love to spare within?
A package tied with ribbons bright hides damaged good within.
There’s none to spare and none to share, so we play the song again.
Over and over again but it still comes out the same.
Little Boy alone and lost the nights cold terror grows.
The reapers breath the hand of death why did they have to go?
The mem’ry of that midnight ride. Betrayals lie still stings.
The myth denied the tears uncried.It’s a sad song the lost
soul sings
Chorus
Little Girl in pigtails alone and lost fright.
Daddy’s mad and Mama’s sad and something’s just not right.
The price of love was silence, The debt remains unpaid.
The pain still felt outlasts the welts,.The angry words
remain.
Chorus
Sowing seeds from bitter fruit the chain unbroken grows.
Tumbling down life’s cold dark well, no bottom yet we know.
How could god love damaged goods?
One so perfect knows the emptiness that cries for light and warmth and so she shows
Grace and love in the healing wind that blows.
A package tied with ribbons bright just a twisted shell within.
There’s none to spare and none to share, so we play the song again.
Will it always be this way?Must the twisted shell
remain?
They called it love - the velvet glove hid bruises with the guilt
The hurt was un-intended, the best that could be done.
The child fled to save her life, how far now must he run?
Before her cries are heard and his race is done?
The light of day has found it’s way – from the twisted
shell - comes - a butterfly
The Dancing Lad and Lassie
7-14-94
Words by © Charles Stacey
Music © by Charles Stacey and Alan Frost
Was she the promise from his future, This maiden from Kintyre.
His question found an answer in her simple Gaelic smile.
He knew she looked familiar, this figure in the crowd.
Like a long forgotten lyric to an old familiar song.
Neither one came lookin’ but they found each other there.
She reached and touched his tremb’ling hand as they danced the Derry Aire.
Listen to the fiddle. The fife and the pipes sing sweet.
A melody quite simple and yet still incomplete
(Chorus)
The dancing lad and lassie stand, stumble, Fall, then rise and
Finally find the rhythm in a promise once disguised
Flying toward the sunrise. The beacon of the dawn.
Pushing back the darkness on the way to the July morn.
The window let the new moon in as she lay there in his arms –
Carried on a flood tide to a meadow safe and warm.
He wondered at her teardrops. He wondered at her smile
And danced within her magic spell then they slept for just a while (Chorus)
Like the magic that had brought her she disappeared as fast.
To return, she said, when the next full moon her magic shadow cast.
Her ling’ring scent the only proof she hadn’t been a dream –
When she slipped into the sunrise and vanished in times stream.
With the waxing and the waning he waits now with the moon
And sings again from mem-o-ry the fragmentary tune.
He prays she wasn’t just a dream that tumbled out of time.
A tale told by the Texas moon in a lilting Celtic rhyme. (Chorus)
Words and Music © Charles Stacey & Cynthia Whiddon Green
5/3/2000
fills the brown horizon.It’s a suffocating light.
I’m dancing with the shadow, my aching, burning breast
Is trapped by an illusion.The nightmare says “No rest.”
I take the pill that lets me breath and one so I can feel
but not too much the doctor warns, and take it with a meal.
But don’t eat this. Watch out for that till you take another pill.
Dancing with the shadow but who will pay the bill?
Racing to oblivion – into the abyss.
Floating mindless drugged by work or ozone’s deadly kiss.
Or raging at the powerless and hiding in the hate,
or dancing with the shadow and blaming it on fate.
Wandering through the labyrinth wondering which ways out.
Confusion rings off concrete walls, echoed voices shout.
Paneled glass reflecting back the memory of sky.
Dancing with the shadow a whispered voice asks “why?”
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
The anger and sadness struggle and fight.
The waif from the dream with the cold zombie stare
goes for my throat - I struggle for air.
She goes for my throat – I struggle for air.
It’s the same old sad story – the world upside down – The kid holds the mother not the other way round.
They’re buried so deep – but the feelings reach out –
I’m helpless, alone, I’ve no voice to shout.
I can feel my life draining – He’s gone away.
She’s crying so softly.Is she going to stay?
The pain of the future –the guilt of today.
I’m the only one left - they all ran away.
I’m the only one left, they all ran away.
It’s the same old sad story – the world upside down – The kid holds the mother not the other way round.
She fights her own demons – I struggle with mine.The
same yet apart – chained together through time.
The face of the demon looks forward and back.
No one is safe from the bitter attack.
We take the fear handed and pass it along
and hope for some magic that can help us be strong.
And hope for some magic that can help us be strong.
It’s the same old sad story – the world upside down –
The kid holds the mother not the other way round.
8/17/92
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
Then a Blue Jay shatters morning's peace – Down at Uncle
Joe’s.
A blue gill plays the bump and run – down at Uncle
Joe’s. Times lazy river flows.
It's a well-worn place with a friendly face. Paint's peeling like sunburned skin.
A place of fishing things and guitar strings and the buzz of the dragon fly
And a fisherman’s little white lie.
Smell the fish a fryin’ – Down at Uncle Joe’s
And musses up the mirror’s face – Down at Uncle Joe’s. Time's lazy river flows.
A fishin’ hole and an old cane poll and some shade where a
boy can hide – with a case full of alibi’s
The bobwhite calls as the shadows grow. The orange sky explodes.
A lazy august sneaks away – Down at Uncle Joe’s.
Watchin’ the old folks on their front porch swing
As they’re watchin’ the sunset’s glow – The whippoorwill’s
song unfolds.
It’s a well-worn place with a friendly face. Paint’s peeling like sunburned skin
A breeze that clings to the song I sing in a place now safe to hide. With no need of an alibi.
1/31/93
Words © Charles Stacey Music © Alan Frost
Just like the first time you hand me your pain.
The consummate victim – Denial your game.
I’m tired of the black hat – I’m tired of the blame.
Your personal bastard, beggar and thief.
A plate full of hate with a helping of grief.
The venom is bitter – the poison is sharp –
I dance with the Dra-gon, it claws at my heart.
Words fall past lips with no sense of the pain –
The tongue of the dra-gon – a scorching hot flame.
Life taken cheaply – ignoring my cry –
you cut to the bone with your callous reply.
I’m tired of your lies and ex-haused by shame.
The thunder is rolling so you ran away –
Gone is the place thatIhope you will stay.
The pieces of puzzle all rest in their places –
The dragon is dancing with infinite graces.
I feel a stain spreading–It eats at my soul-
I’m dying by in-ches numbed by your cold.
The mask and the mirror – the dragons feared faces –
filling the world till there’s no hiding places.
Answers in questions – truth hides in lies –
The paradox voice in the dragon’s disguise.
A boat on the ocean with tattered old sails –
No match for the pow-er-ful dragon’s hard scales.
Saint George to your Genevieve – The dragon’s disguise –
A delicate dance viewed through sorcerers eyes.
Projecting, reflecting, wondering why?
The sun and the moon in Med-evial skys.
Words and Music © by
Charles Stacey
I wanted so to kiss her
and softly stroke her hair.
I wanted so to tell her
that she really shouldn’t go.
I tried to reach and
touch her – But they all said “NO”
They said I wouldn’t
understand but they just couldn’t let me cry.
Now I want to say
“Goodbye” and say “I Miss you so.”
And still they must
protect themselves— So my pain just grows.
Will there ever be a
daywhen pain will go away?
Will there ever be a day
when the emptiness won’t stay?
Will I find your hiding
place and feel your gentle hug
And give the present
held so long
and then walk away and
still feel your love?
Let me feel the
loneliness and then I’ll fill it with my fears.
Let me feel the pain
that’s there until it goes away.
Stand quietly beside me,
please – just one more day.
I wanted so to kiss her
and softly stroke her hair.
I wanted so to tell her
that she really shouldn’t go.
I tried to reach and
touch her – But they all said “NO”
9-21-94
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
I feel the warmth of the rising sun but a chill hangs in the air
The full moon smiles knowingly and then she disappears
Passing through the balance - Rest once more in sight.
The wheel turns round us one more time
The spiral path delights in September's gentle flight.
CHORUS
SAILING TOWARD THE LAND OF YOUTH. ACROSS A SUNLESS SEA
AS AUTUMN GRAINS WE GATHER TRANSFORM TO SPRING TIMES SEEDS
LIFE'S FRAGILE CHORD WE WEAVE
The colors of the sunset paint leaves that
touch dawns sky
Then slip from mother's gentle grasp. Once Brilliant, Fade, then die.
They celebrate a life fulfilled, these dancers spinning round
'Tween endings and beginnings, regeneration found
The carpet warms the ground CHORUS
March 10, 1998
Words and Music © Charles Stacey
Tomorrow burning brightly as the flare stacks ‘cross the bay.
At night they burn like Christmas lights but I wake up to the day.
Child at the trailer door another on the way –
I feel my mouth a movin’ but there’s nothing left to say
An ex-con bar keep Spider owns an ice house on White’s Lake
Were I fill my glass and ego with my brothers as we wait.
And we talk about our wives and kids and wonder what went wrong
And listen to the lyrics of a real sad country song.
Chorus
Turn arounds and shut downs…pawns in someone’s game.
A welding torch they bid for, then no one knows my name.
A cog in Linebeck’s giant wheel or maybe Brown and Root.
If not for Love or Munday – Toolbox and steel toed boots will
Hit the road to Spiders’ and swallow back the fear,
By fighting over nothing and drinking Lone Star Beer.
Daddy came in ’42 to keep this country free.
Eighth grade education, sweat and opportunity.
His dust bowl schemes and childhood dreams of how his son would be
Led him to the main gate at the Shell Refinery.
The work was hard but so was dad; Oh, how my mama cried.
The bottle, belt and Bible – Well, I know they really tried.
His poor man’s quest allowed no rest although he promised time.
Hidden cares in pink slip prayers – the promise proved a lie .
(Chorus)
Way to smart for college, the dirt track called my name.
Dreams of speed and glory, fortune, money, fame.
But dreams won’t feed a wife and kids so I ante’d for dad’s game
And found the promise growing strong and flowing through my veins.
So I feed it Wild Turkey and smoke it till it’s done.
The demon’s face is smiling back from the muzzle of the gun.
The flare stacks and the towers breath away the sun.
That biker dude is standing up and there’s no where I can run. (Chorus)
Dads dream became my nightmare. Now I’m
standing in the fire
While another generation is balanced on the wire.
My father tried to give me more but I’m choking in the haze
And see my children growing in a frightened, angry daze.
I can’t get off this bar stool though Spider says I’m done.
It’s way past three and seems to me I promised my young son.
A fishing trip, a swimming dip, a blazing camping fire –
The promise still is unfulfilled it’s my turn to be the liar (Chorus)
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
1-7-96
Each mid November where the tall pines grow four old buddies up to
Lynchville go
To a four room shack with an old wood stove and a tin roof red as a chili bowl.
Carpet on the walls and a hardwood floor. Rusty old pump by the back porch door
Full Moon shines on our four ---- through the door
(Chorus)
They’re gathered round the table in the lamplight’s Glow,
Playing Stud Poker and Sippin' Slow.
Abner and the Gen’ral and Tony and Steve,
But wait a minute Mama we added three -
spoken
(strange looking trio)
Everybody thinks that they’re hunting deer,
Telling dirty jokes and drinkin’ beer
The three new players changed that all,
Now the shotguns rust and the paste boards call.
They came last week when the moon was full;
Clock struck twelve and there they stood
Silent they challenged our four - nature calls.
(Chorus)
They’re gathered round the table in the lamplight’s Glow,
Playing Stud Poker and Sippin’ Slow.
Abner and the Gen’ral and Tony and Steve,
Holy mackerel where’d they find the other three
(Bridge) (spoken) you will notice that I have shifted to a minor
key...that means the plot thickens!
Some have said t’was the whisky when this story they try to explain
Or shadows or stew un-digested or rad-i-a-tion that fell in the rain - on the
plain - not Spain
First of the three stands nine feel long,
Black as night and tongue that’s forked
Audubon guide would call him chicken snake
But he told the boys call me Joaquin Jake
His friends were know as the Tenneha two; six pound rats with eyes of blue
They answered the cards plaintive call - “DEAL ‘EM ALL”
(Chorus)
They’re gathered round the table in the lamplight’s Glow,
Playing Stud Poker and Sippin’ Slow.
Abner and the Gen’ral and Tony and Steve,
Hey what’s that snake got up his sleeve
Spoken
(It’s a long sleeve...I should have been suspicious when the snake slid up
wearing a green eyeshade)
They played all night and the next full day and the midnight sky was turning
gray
Steve was tapped and the Tenaha two lost their chips as Jake’s pile grew
Abner had a pair but the snake drew three when Tony said “that’s all for me.”
Caught by the luck of the draw - Jake took all
(Bridge)
Now that should be the end of my story but you see when Jake went to go
He had no place for his winnings - no pockets to carry his gold - not a fold
(Chorus)
They’re gathered round the table in the lamplight’s Glow,
Playing Stud Poker and Sippin’ Slow.
Abner and the Gen’ral and Tony and Steve,
They can’t stop playing...the snake won’t leave
Spoken
Hey Abner, you better call home. Jeans gonna be worried;
Hey while you’re up when don’t’ you call and order us a pizza.
You better make one of them double cheese...the rats are looking hungry!
4-24-93
Words © by Charles Stacey , Bill Kingsbury & Tom Baumgartner
Music © by Charles Stacey & Bill Kingsbury
Hoot owl’s calling to the dead of night.
The ghostly guard calls her question out.
The coyote answers back his sad reply.
The dark moon’s staring like an evil eye.
It weaves a spell from an ancient time
while lost souls search for rest yet denied.
(Chorus)
Walking with the ghosts along the Brazos –
Listen to sad stories of woe.
Their whispered voice the wind in the willows.
Out beyond the campfires glow – where shadows grow.
Walking the prairie with his lamp held high –
Bailey’s ghost such a scary sight –
He’s searching through a dark endless night
And headless John cries out for peace.
He’s a pris-o-ner in the lake’s cold deep.
And the lady in gray still lost in her lovers lie.
(Chorus)
Masters, slaves, killers and their victims.
The past parades to the devil’s dark delight.
Time melts like the Live Oaks in the moonlight.
Were those eyes I saw or a winking firefly’s light.
Just a dreamers fright.
I’m a dancer in a drama with a ghostly cast reflected in night’s looking
glass –
so I call the phantom fidd’ler to a lively reel.
But the fingers on the dawn’s dim hand, reach across the mirror'd land and
Point me to the river and on to the sunrise sea.
(Chorus)
Goodbye to the ghosts along the Brazos –
Remember their sad stories of woe.
And their whispered voice, the wind in the willows.
Dancing where the campfires glow – now safe to go.
1-28-95
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
A Gilly flower glistens in the Blue Ridge Mountain rain.
Clinging to the hillside of the mountainous terrain
Rain drops rest like shining jewels in the queen’s majestic crown.
A regal presence from her throne to the valley she looks down.
Yellow, tall and graceful --the flower and the rock
Dance a waltz in three-four time to the metro-nom-ic clock
She speaks a silent promise to those that wish to hear.
It’s a promise of deliverance from a paralyzing fear.
(Chorus)
Hold tight Gilly flower to that little patch of earth.
Let the rock protect you from the shadow’s threat of
hurt.
Wedged there in the crevice -- reaching toward the sun.
Soaking up the warm sweet glow -- spring has just
be-gun
But I hear her voice a callin’ me in the whisper of the rain.
Her face is smiling ‘cross the space that’s fillin’ up my mind.
So I set my course for the Blue Ridge, my Gilly flower to find.
Returning to the holler -- to long I’ve been away
From my precious Gilly flower and the Blue Ridge Mountain day.
The valley’s arms embrace me and caress my tired eyes.
I’m rescued from the clutches of illusions angry lies. (Chorus)
You cling there to the mountain side and reach out for the light
And sing your song so sweetly to the valley’s great delight.
Embraced within your fragrance and by roots that hold so tight.
We’re nurtured by the warming earth as we share her damp delights
The sunset burns so radiant -- like shining amber bright.
We rest to greet another day -- I’ll hold you close tonight
The mountain’s arms embrace me as I hold you once again.
We share the dream of being back in old Kintyre’s glen. (Chorus)
11-22-93
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
(Spoken)
It seems as humans we fear what we don’t understand and we try to destroy what
we fear. In that Intolerance we often destroy the very means of our own
salvation. And that’s a high price to pay. But those that refuse to
surrender to the intolerance. Those that try to learn and grow.
They also pay a high price. There in lies the story of the Gypsy Fire.
A child small in the manor hall plays at his father’s side
While the minstrel sings of wondrous things that echo in the child’s eyes.
A Gypsy camp in the moor so damp and dancers on a full moon night -
Circles cast and ghosts long past -The lord feared the lads
delight. HE WARNED:
(Chorus)
Beware the camp of the gypsy woman who dances in the pale moon light.
Some have said she’s the devil’s bride who can steal your soul on sight
The pounding drums and the chanting hums through a night as black as coal
There’s a raging fire and a warning dire that echo’s through his soul
Yet his heart is drawn to the dark fore dawn and the light of the gypsy
fire.
And then one day in the child’s play he strayed into the moor
And followed his ear to a clearing near and he opened up the gypsy’s door
She welcomed him to the room so dim. It was filled with smells so sweet.
Her voice it rang as she gently sang and danced on two bare feet
(SLOWLY)
The child grew tall, ten springs and falls- the gypsy his secret friend.
Her healing craft she taught the lad, gentle days they spent.
Sharing its herbs the moor it heard them softly sing along.
The sky was blue, six more springs flew.
Forgotten was his fathers song. (Chorus)
In the village fear was always near - like a terrible cancer grew.
Ear to ear and year to year their fearful whispers grew.
Fear to hate then anger great - the gypsy woman scorned.
In joke and play the towns folk say; In word and song they warned: (Chorus)
(Bridge)
Then one night by the dark moon’s light the lord from a fever fell.
From a vintage bad ‘twas a drink he had but they said was an evil spell
To the gypsy’s name they screamed out blame and to the moor they ran.
Their anger churned and torches burned - blood was on their
hands (Chorus)
At his father’s side the young man tried the healing arts he knew.
In the dark he groped for one last hope. t'was a plant the gypsy grew.
To the moor he went. Hope like the scent of the simple lungworm bloom.
But the cottage lay in ashes gray - his gentle gypsy gone.
(Bridge)
Lost inside his sadness - no where left to turn. His father’s funeral pyre and
the gypsy fire’s burn.
Driven from the manor by their superstition’s fright; An outcast moving slowly
in the cold Novembers light.
The sunlight shares no comfort, the moors his home tonight.
(Chorus)
Beware the camp of the gypsy woman who dances in the pale moon light.
Some have said she’s the devil’s bride who can steal your soul on sight
The pounding drums and the chanting hums through a night as black as coal
There’s a raging fire and a warm desire that echo’s through his soul
His heart belongs to the dark fore dawn. He’s home by the Gypsy
Fire
Words & Music © by
Charles Stacey
Born into her parent’s
perfect world.Mama’s perfect little girl.
A china doll dances in
the eye of the storm.
Mom’s porcelain princess
in a showcase forlorn.
Monsters so
terrible torture their prey.
Monsters so
horrible hidden away by the day.
The walls of the box
reach and stifle her scream.
Pleading with shadows that
whisper her name.
The trembling quarry in
a predator’s game.
Chorus
They hide in the
bedroom. They hide in her dreams.
They taunt and they
tickle and speak in her screams.
Feelings like
presents from days long ago.
A fearful dark
legacy smelly and old — On it goes.
Perfect playmates all
around.
A chameleon cloth this
deceiver’s design.
Light from the stained
glass strikes mom and dad blind.
To the little dark
demons that hide in the light.
They prance in the
sunlightsafe from mom’s sight
Monsters so
terrible torture their prey.
Monsters so
horrible hidden away by the day.
Just as winter turns to
springtime – from summer comes the fall.
The remnants of
childhood – Sheltered in the dark.
A grown-up on the
outside – The child held in memr’y’s heart.
Tricked time and again
by the dark dream’s cold charm
Afraid of the darkness
yet tortured by light.
Chilled into numbness
yet stung by the sight.
Chorus
Of the little dark
demons that hide in the light.
They prance in the
sunlightsafe from mom’s sight
Monsters so terrible torture their prey.
Monsters so horrible hidden
away by the day.
Holli holds her daughter
and speaks the monsters name
Protecting with her
mem’ry and her legacy of pain
she shields the child
from sacrifice to the monsters age-old game.
The mill of the god’s
grinds so slowly but fine.
The words of her poetry
leap from the page.
The spotlight shines
bright on the once darkened stage.
Chorus
And the little dark
demons that hide in the light.T
hey prance in the
sunlightsafe from mom’s sight
Monsters so terrible
torture their prey.
Monsters so horrible
hidden away by the day.
They taunt and they
tickle and speak in her screams.
Feelings like
presents from days long ago.
A fearful dark legacy
smelly and old — On it goes.
Words
& Music © by Charles Stacey
Reflect the me that I
must see.
To be what other say to
be.Say to be.
Live with the
illusion. Defend it with your life.
Protect it with
your anger. Turn away and close your eyes.
The burning hate
that reaches out - - enunciates the silent shout.
With flying glass
the mirror breaks.
Illusion flees but
what remains?
A pain that blinds the
wounded heart.
Reaching for a place to
hold.
A search for warmth
within the cold.
The dark and cold.
(Chorus)
Live with the
illusion. Defend it with your life.
Protect it with
your anger. Turn away and close your eyes.
The burning hate
that reaches out - - enunciates the silent shout.
With flying glass
the mirror breaks.
Illusion flees but
what remains?
Will you turn away the
offered hand
or let your vision
slowly clear.
To find a love amidst
the fear. Love and fear.
(Chorus)
Live with the
illusion. Defend it with your life.
Protect it with
your anger. Turn away and close your eyes.
The burning hate
that reaches out - - enunciates the silent shout.
With flying glass
the mirror breaks.
Illusion flees but
what remains?
the child that fled no
longer hides.
No need to save the
other ones.
The time arrives to just
become. To just become.
Live with the
illusion. Defend it with your life.
Protect it with your
anger. Turn away and close your eyes.
The burning hate
that reaches out - - enunciates the silent shout.
With flying glass
the mirror breaks.
Mirror, Mirror on the
wall.
6-6-93
Words © by Holli Bara
Music © by Charles Stacey
Lost inside my secret heartache – living out this lie.
Catching up the fire escaping – in the dark I cry.
The boundary line was drawn so neatly, but I dream of how it’d be.
If I weren’t afraid of angels – and you weren’t afraid of me.
(Chorus)
I'm colder than the arctic norther, bluer than a sapphire stone,
Quieter than a cat gone creeping passed a sleeping dog and bone.
I’m lonely as the pris–o–ner who sheds a sol–i–tar–y tear.
Chained up in my own illusion - chained up in my fear.
I’m dancing just beyond your reach – you stand there be–yond mine.
Still the raven calls the jury – will the lamb beware this time?
Will I listen to the answers – that the cards re–veal?
Must the page to become a knight put down his sword and kneel?
(Chorus)
I’m colder than the edge of darkness – bluer than a summer sky.
Quieter than a sleeping baby – breathing soft her peaceful sigh.
I'm lonely as a seaman’s lady –waiting on a pier.
Chained up in my own illusion – chained up in my fear.
It hurts to be inside your light and deny that it is warm.
When you hold me tight this passion struggles to be born.
Believe me when I promise you it’s more than wrong or right.
There in lies the deepest torment. Where in lives the fight.
(Chorus)
I’m colder than a winter snowstorm – bluer than the ocean floor.
Quieter than a thief at midnight – stealing passed your door.
I’m lonely as the frightened soldier – waiting for his turn.
Chained up in my own illusion – will I ever learn?
Tell me what we’ve learned.
In my dreaming you are free and we have never met.
King of Cups and Queen of Wands in search of no regrets.
By chance we meet, or is it fate that brings us to this place.
Embracing all the gods have given us. Creating our own space.
(Chorus)
There I’m warmer than the summer solstice. Greener than a May spring
fair.
Louder than a thousand voices coursing through the air.
And you’re in my arms till morning and I’m in yours till night.
Knowing that it’s not illusion — knowing we are right.
5-8-94
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
It was a sultry summer Sunday - A day in early May.
I was singing in the back yard - not sure of what to play
When up steps a lizard of a purely average size
who shows off his ruby throat as if to catch my eye.
He says “Let’s write a new song - your sad one just won’t do.
I want a May or June one - not a blue September tune.
One with a simple harmony so that I can sing along.
One to cheer me up when everything goes wrong.”
I shook my head in disbelief at his pure rich baritone.
That lizard with the ruby throat - and me there all alone.
Sitting in the garden it all seemed quite unreal.
Then a lizard with a yellow stripe joined in with a squeal.
He said, “I’ll take the tenor part if you let me join your band.
I’d also play the tambourine, if I only had a hand.”
A bee peered from a blossom. “As a bass I sing quite grand.
My wings can play the rhythm part - just show me were to stand.
(Chorus)
The dandelions danced while the purple sage it swayed
and a happy tune touched my old guitar on that magic summer day.
We sang it high - we sang it low - we sang it fast - then we sang it
slow.
We filled the day with a happy tune - music sweet as a lilac in bloom.
The lizards, the bee and the troubadour, we sing.
and it sounded something like this: (kazoo ride of verse melody)
We sang along all afternoon till the sun was sinking low.
Then the lizard with the baritone said, “It’s time for us to go.”
I said my thanks for the happy tune and their gentle company
and asked when we’d take to the Mucky Duck for all the world to see.
I saw the lizard smile - It was a grin from ear to ear.
He said, “That’s quite an offer. That’s a genuine idear.”
But he said that the magic only works on a Sunday afternoon
And with a singer of your temperament who’s crazy as a loon.
(RPT INSTR)
(Chorus)
6-29-84
Words and Music © by
Charles Stacey and Bill Kingsbury
Someone to share the
lonesome road and have some time to spend.
We’ve walked alone for
oh so long; It’s time for com-pan-y.
I want someone to share
the song with me.
Someone to share a quiet
moment, somewhere on the way.
To let me feel what I
must feel and say what I must say.
Well I’ve looked in many
faces that offered me their smiles.
There weren’t enough to
lighten up the dark and lonely miles.
Reaching out in pain so
great. Both desperate to be saved
from emptiness in pleasures
that we craved.
A friend would share the
world that’s hidden deep inside my mind
and bend to touch the
child within and not leave him behind.
Beggin’ for salvation
while I squandered all my wealth.
The anger in denial
fights the pain of inward sight.
The demon’s whined and
wrestled for my life.
I'm not lookin’ for a
lover but I sure could use a friend ——
To let me stand up
straight yet like a willow let me bend.
you’ll lead me to the
other side of the looking glass.
It’s only then I’ll see
myself for what I really am——
Winter’s tree that bares
its every limb.
Then winter grows into
the spring and life bursts forth anew.
The budding branches
reaching out to touch the heaven’s blue.
3-27-93
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
The mist climbs off the lakes dark face and mingles with the magical rays –
Of the dawn’s first light shining copper bright.
It’s a lucky penny day – The nights chill melts away.
The breeze among the tall pines, like my lovers sleeping sigh –
Whispers stories of the magic land behind her peaceful dreamers eye.
I hold her tight in the penny’s light then rise to greet the day.
Embers left from last nights fire wink and call my name.
I Coax the fires flame.
Dew drops under tall pines, a blanket woven fine,
A pine bough bed, her sleepy head, the hope filled omen’s sign.
(Instrumental ride)
The dogwood spreads her milky arms and reaches to the noon–day sun.
The legend says her burden is shed, her painful past is now done. Springtime’s
promise she won.
The secret of the tall pines whispers in my mind.
I see it in the gray squirrels’ timeless flight tree to tree 'cross the clear
blue sky.
Floating with my love on the crystal lake, watching the fish swimming by.
The turtles perch then off they lurch, our paddles punch a hole in the sky.
Like a dream in a painters eye.
Shadows paint the tall pines, the day is winding down, the cardinal’s flee the
sweet gum tree,
the campfire’s smoke floats round.
The full moon sneaks a closer look, the wishing star shares its light.
The tall pines sing their lullaby – the campfires glow greets the night. A
copper penny’s light.
The smoke’s scent follows beauty – Daytime follows night –
and love like the morning glory blooms in the lucky penny light.
(Repeat Instrumental)
12-12-94
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
The Maiden of Kintyre gazes out to sea,
Her heart so gay, she sings and sways to the song her lover weaves.
From window high ‘bove heather green and ocean azure blue,
she sees the isle of Erin smile - Home to her minstrel true.
Five leagues on toward sunset her laddie love looks back
From high atop the castle rock, his stout heart leaps and shouts.
Bound by love that fills the gulf, her minstrel greets the dawn
But war clouds crest o’re lovers blessed.
Desperate grows their song.
(Chorus)
Loves sweet promise whispers soft as the sun drenched summers day.
Smell the highland heather and feel the ocean spray.
The golden eagle gathers souls of the bonnie, brave and true -
While the raven from the emerald isle weaves his spell in blue.
A magic spell in blue.
Bonnie Charlie raised the clans then crossed the Irish Sea.
So her minstrel came to Castle Swein then took his soldiers leave.
A harp slung o’re his shoulder, brave tune on his lips –
He bade farewell saying, “I’ll be well, or take the eagles trip.”
The clans marched to Culloden, lambs led to the slaughter.
Mothers cried as brave sons died - now flee ye wives and daughters.
The clans now scatter like dry leaves on a highland winters morn.
She had to leave on the evening breeze.
To A-mer-i-kay the clan was goin’. (Chorus)
From castle wall she jumped so high to join her lover true,
But those that watched in disbelief say a golden eagle flew.
Then high above Kintyre’s shores there came a raven’s cheer.
Then the eagle and the raven into sunset they disappeared.
T’was long ago they vanished and yet still time to time –
The fishermen of Kintyre spy an eagle there a flying.
And right next to the golden bird, a small one black as night –
Flies side by side as on they glide in high, mid-ocean flight.
Because. (Chorus)
11-16-94
Words © by Holli Bara
Music © by Alan Frost & Charles Stacey
(Chorus)
Round the lads and lassies Go - round and round the circle grows.
Ribbons of silver, ribbons of gold, round and round the magic maypole
Follow the heather over the hill - Follow it down to the sea.
Follow the heather where ye will but follow it home to me.
Mother weaves a story, father tells it too.
To cast the babe on a journey nigh - to dream time woven true.
Fare thee well my love - travel safe and well.
Find the magik maypole there - under the moonlight spell.
(Chorus)
Hear the children laughing light - singing sweet their song.
Spring is here - the time is near - peace is not far long.
Fare thee well my love - travel safe and well.
Find the magik maypole there under the moonlight spell.
(Chorus)
The magik of the maypole’s message woven true.
The dancers dance - the singers sing - the ribbons me and you.
Wound and bound together - all parts of the whole.
The dancers dream their timeless dance around the magik maypole.
(Chorus)
11-30-95
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
A promise made just yesterday still ringing in her ears.
The brightness of that new days dawn reflected in her tears.
Alone she searches memories - sitting in the dark.
A cup of coffee, a calico cat, an aching sleepless heart.
Her old familiar part.
The midnight mind a play ground - a hole that can’t be filled,
A trance not easily broken, a voice that won’t be stilled.
A pair of teardrops trickle into bitter salty streams –
Separate in their sameness yet fed by different dreams.
A distant siren screams
So many times she trusted - So many times she tried -
So many screams were stifled - So many tears uncried.
The kitchen spins a silent spell. The ash tray overflows.
She wrestles with the questions as the tragedy unfolds.
For reasons yet untold
Holding tight to here and now but mem-o-ries intrude.
Angry voices threaten her with guilt that still deludes.
She feels the poison seeping from the secret place inside –
Containing all the feelings of the ones that wouldn’t cry.
The ones that chose to die
She saw the life slip away she carried deep inside.
It’s a tale told through the ages. Countless ways and countless times.
Gazing out their windows - at the ghosts of those who’ve gone.
Cloistered in their kitchens - one of many - each alone.
Maiden - Mother
- Crone
10-9-94
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
For Phillip Stacey
The minstrel and the devil, walking on the way.
Lost in conversation the troubadour did say,
“As a traveling companion you seem to have no peer,
And yet I’ve noticed something that strikes me quite weird
Really weird. Absolutely weird.
In story after legend. In verse and countless song.
Someone gets the best of you and right wins over wrong.
So tell me just how is it you still can keep your job
In the face of all these failures and the souls you couldn’t rob.
You tried to rob. But failed to rob.
(Chorus)
You went on down to Georgia and lost your fiddle of gold.
You argued with Dan Webster and that hand you had to fold.
I do believe you’re just a shill in some cosmic poker game.
Someone we invented to take up all the blame.
I wonder if in times gone by you had another name
and found a greater favor in the way you played the game.
I trust someday you’ll get a break. A better hand to play,
When we take responsibility for ourselves along the way.
(INSTRUMENTAL RIDE)
They say you’re from a burning pit - buried deep below
And we’d better do just what they want
or that’s just where we will go.
And once again a good man - They said you stole away.
But I know a soul that gentle - He found a better fate.
A quiet fate. A Gentle fate.
(Chorus)
8-13-93
Words © by Holli Bara Music © by Charles Stacey
The leaves are crimson colored, copper and they’re gold.
The fire crackles back a hint of cold.
From underneath a shawl that was woven by native hands,
I gather in - and contemplate the land.
(Chorus)
And the trains are all going and the breezes are blowing.
The full moon is showing and the rivers are flowing.
The bands are all playing and the fires are all blazing. –
And no one is waiting at home for me.
And the bells are all ringing and the muses are singing.
The pagans are dancing. The magic’s enchanting.
The voices are sounding. The drums are all pounding.
The ocean’s not drowning me.
Being still I sense the whispers. Louder now, I hear the cries.
Moving through the willow waters drowning out the lies.
I seek - They speak. They call me to my feet.
The scent of sweet grass travels up from the forest floor.
Now the moon with her yellow hue illuminates a door.
The burning sage has left me drunk with nature’s wine.
This vision clearly now reveals the choice is mine. (Chorus)
(Instrumental Ride) (Chorus)
I weave my shawl around my shoulders, stand and look behind.
To the south I wonder who and what they’ll find.
In my hand I hold apache tear - the sacred stone.
I fashion on the ground an arrow to point to where I’ve gone.
(Chorus)
2/3/95
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
See the sun child frolic in the heavens.
Playing hide and seek there in the sky.
His warmth held safe between a fleece white cloud bank
And a winters sky as blue as Brigid’s eyes.
(Chorus)
Seeds are stirring somewhere in the darkness.
Inspirations fires touch the land.
And warms the heart and soul within the poet.
And the bard held gently in the muses hand.
Hope was born anew at winter solstice.
A child growing in the waxing light.
Brigid on a pathway into springtime -
Dances in the child’s pure delight. (Chorus)
Fires of the heart are burning brightly.
Fires of the mind bring crystal light.
Fires of the wind blow from the southland.
Fires out of time chase waning nights. (Chorus)
8-15-93
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
Your gentle fragrance lingers as the breeze plays with my hair.
I’m reaching out to touch and then remember you’re not here.
But the strings move like your body held in my calloused hands.
This flat top magic carpet flies my heart to where you stand.
But I wake alone in no man’s land. A stranger in a once familiar land.
Your question crosses miles, can love navigate that far?
I know our time was way to short but you’re always on my mind.
And we look up at the same moon and share the same stars bright
but the new moon hid this morning much to the no man’s lands delight
Hidden in the sunrise shining light.
Lost alone in the no man’s land’s dark night.
There’s a silent desperation deep down in my soul
as I carry out the timeless task of changing lead to gold.
Or a thousand other questions: Like How to make love stay
or how far through this no man’s land to where you’ll share my day - -
And the new moon return to show the way -‘cause footprints in times shifting
sands don’t stay.
Your gentle fragrance lingers as the breeze plays with my hair.
I’m
reaching out to touch and then remember you’re not here.
But the strings move like your body held in my calloused hands
and this flat top magic
carpet flies away from the shifting sands.
Where together we’ll be dreaming in a strange new land.
Exploring this place called no man’s land.
6-8-94
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
Staring out at headlights that stare right back at me
And paint in pain the message, “it’s the price of being free.”
Some must choose the lonesome road and solitary be.
I choose alone, not lonely - my muse for company.
We’re in search of the mystery
(Chorus)
So I rub the brass so shiny and I call the genie’s name, and
dream the wishes promised and in these strings like a lamp contained
Wishing for a melody and truths to fit my rhymes
and a voice as clear as a mountain stream to sing of a distant time
The road leads to a mountain top where the ancient ones roamed free.
A cedar recalls their age old dance in a whisper ghostly green.
The valley hums her timeless tune so I join in the melody.
Life’s basket woven tight enough to hold eternity
On the spirit’s
odyssey
(Chorus)
From the Mountain top to the valley deep to the river crystal clear –
Listening to the timeless tune that so few seem to hear.
Her silent voice is a whisper hidden deep inside my dream –
My odyssey with this flat top box with shiny brass wound strings
Reveals the song she sings. (Chorus)
I’m rolling down the highway, I got a thousand miles to go.
A pocket full of memories but not much else to show.
The future’s like the desert - it’s a vast uncharted land.
I’m finding my choice in the lizards voice and the touch of an ancient hand.
The age old Mimbres Band. (Chorus)
11/15/98
Words and Music © Charles Stacey
To: Quail Dobbs and his excellent advice
I hit the road to fame and fortune wet behind the ears.
I was a bull-riding cowboy of lean and tender years.
Blue-sky dreams filled my head. To green to feel much fear,
Dad’s stories of the rodeo had filled my hungry ears.
When a fellow dressed in baggy pants kneels down by my side.
He whispers through the grease paint “my job’s to save your hide.
Son, listen to experience and not your cowboy’s pride.
You see your glory lasts 8 seconds son and then the whistle
sounds.
You’re a hero for a moment but the show starts when you’re down.
Then horns and hooves and fear explode, your heart begins to pound.
The red eyed demon’s gaining and there’s no fence to be
found.” But
(Chorus)
All you need is one step tho’ you’ll feel his hot
breath blow.
You see, the demon gives you one more step each time
you slap his nose.
The old boy thinks he caught you so run steady as she
goes,
‘cause all you need is one step until the bullfighter
shows.
In ’68 the letter came. Next stop Viet Nam.
I traded in my chaps and spurs to fight for Uncle Sam.
My head was full of John Wayne dreams. Rifle in my hand.
Soldiering was in my blood. I came to free the land.
I thought about the words my sergeant said that I should hear.
“A hero’s medals give no warmth or give a lover cheer.
Don’t die the fool. Son, Play it cool. Go dry your
mother’s tears.”
The enemy engulfed us with a paralyzing sound.
The sergeant hollers “fall back.” In a star shell’s eerie glow
A ghostly man in baggy pants and grease paint says, “lets
go.” (Chorus)
I had my fill of mud and blood, at times I thought I’d drown.
I added up my tally, it was time to settle down.
Picket fences filled my dreams. My course was homeward bound.
First school then job then wife and kids feet firmly planted
on the ground.
But that was as a young man of lean and tender years.
Alone there wasn’t much to loose now life fills to the brim.
I see my grand kids growing but my sight’s becoming dim.
I was back in the arena and I heard the whistle scream
A bolt of fear ran through me, there was not a fence in sight.
An angel dressed in baggy pants and grease paint points me toward a light.
He whispers (Chorus)
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
A silent stealing madness – A secret hidden part.
An echo down an empty hall – past rooms with doors shut tight.
No shelter from the ghostly call – the shadows steal the
light.
Chorus
Lost inside the big old house – there must be people
there.
I hear their whispers through the door.
They promise me they care but a touch they will not
share.
A dark form hovers very close.The dreamer calls his name.
But it’s an echo down an empty hall. Past rooms with doors shut tight.
No shelter from the mem’rys call in an endless, sleepless
night.
Chorus
A prisoner of the peeling paint in a house that’s trapped in time.It’s a monument to silence –.
Conspirators design- like a poet’s nonsense rhyme.
Silence hides the bandage like a dark cloud hides the stars.
Like an echo down an empty hall. Past rooms with doors shut tight.
No shelter from the mem’rys call in an endless, sleepless
night.
Chorus
Living in a house so big – I know there’s someone
there.
I hear them laughing through the door
They promise me they care.A gentle touch they will not
share.
It shouldn’t hurt to be five years old so the closet hides the pain.
Confusion’s wind blows round me just like a hurricane.
Like an echo down an empty hall. Past rooms with doors shut tight.
Darkness forms a silent shroud on a seamless summer night.
Trapped inside the big old house – I know the Demon’s
Game.
I hear his whisper through the door
He’s calling out my name.In a touch I feel his shame.
It shouldn’t hurt to be six years old but the walls now share my pain.
A knife point honed to razor sharp like a window’s broken pane.
It’s an echo down an empty hall. Past rooms with doors shut tight.
No shelter from the mem’rys call in a endless, sleepless
night.
Chorus
Trapped inside the creaking house – I smell the musty air.A poem forms upon my lips -
The fading specter stares.Where is the daylight’s
cleansing glare.
The burning ache of loneliness like a fever in my heart.
A silent stealing madness – The secret hidden part.
A face against the window screen – A prayer in freedom’s name.
My friend the old magnolia tree sings out my sad refrain.
Chorus
Moving through the big old house – I find the demon’s lair.I gently whisper through the door -
Then move into the glare of the dawns cool, healing
air.
An ever present sadness crowds dark corners of my heart.A
silent stealing madness – A pain once lost in time.
6-13-93
Words and Music by © Charles Stacey
A sea breeze wrestles the Brazos–like the oysterman wrestles the bay.
A dark cloud wrestles with the orange sun till the moon sends them both away
My mind floats away on the sea breeze, I’m carried North past the Brazos bend –
To where the Red River’s singing softly – She’s whispering in my head.
The Dipper’s overflowing with midnight. We’re chased by the
Scorpion’s flight
Straight on into morning and a Cookson Hills sunrise.
(Chorus)
From the salt marsh to the Rocky’s. From sea to shining sea.
From the solstice to the equinox – A reluctant Refugee.
The river beckons to me.
The river’s crystal life blood is set fire by the dawn’s first light.
This beacon cries, “Return to me and the land of the owls flight.”
Like the North Star guides the sailor ‘cross the ocean to his harbor home
The moon guides the seasons passing, reflected in the Illinois’ flow
From the past right through to the future. From a spring that flows from
deep within.
It feeds the river, that feeds the sky, that feeds the earth and returns again.
(Chorus) I
hear the river’s plea.
For years she sang of her bounty – but they stole her breath away.
Their choking greed it filled her up. “Progress” the white men say.
The beauty of a dark and bloody land, bought with the Cherokee’s tears.
So much lost for Oh so long to the ignorance and fear.
So build the council fires hot so the cry in the smoke can rise
and wake the spirits that have slumbered long so they’ll hear my lovers cry.
(Chorus) On a quest for a long lost key.
Onward as I ramble. As far and wide I roam.
Each star that shines and breeze that blows, points me back to home.
It’s a feeling more than memory, or even people that I left behind.
She’s a soul of green and a spirit clean in a body as old as time.
So maiden of the west wind let loose your flood of tears
And heal my ageless lady, wash away the years.
(Chorus) From a place that used to be.
Return my river to me.
August 20, 1996
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
suggested by a poem by Dorothy A. Stacey, "Moonlight"
Sitting in the window quiet as a mouse - List’ning to your breathing filling
up the sleeping house
I'm dancing a ring ‘round the moon - Kissed by your gentle perfume
(Chorus)
Shining so brightly and stealing so lightly — She came to me.
Waking me, shaking me, whispering softly — Slumbers bright thief
Caressing my eyes as she creeps
Maiden of the moonlight floating on a peaceful sea - Can you feel the echo
of the love you share with me
I'm dancing a ring ‘round the moon - Kissed by your gentle perfume
(Chorus)
Holding close your heartbeat — thankful for the moonlight’s gift
Snuggled in the soft glow — joining in the dream, we drift
Dancing a ring ‘round the moon - Kissed by your gentle
perfume (Chorus)
Em sus
Sitting in the window…(Whispered) Quiet as a mouse
10-28-94
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
Sailing over the sunless sea, the boatman sings a song.
His sightless eyes embrace the dark as he guides the boat along.
He says, “Our destination is a place so bright and fair.
A world of time and wonder.” So why am I feeling scared?
And then I see the storm cloud. The wind begins to wail.
The waves are crashing round us - The rain hangs like a veil.
But on the boatman pushes - his face so ghostly pale.
His song in rhythm with the wind. His tune rides on the Gale.
(Chorus)
Carried in this dream awake by gentle guiding hands
That part the veil that covers me - Bon fires
dance
Like beacons on all hallows eve. They dot the meadows face
and call the ageless spirits from their timeless resting place.
Suspended in the space between. Tonight the veil grows thin.
The promise of the windflower rises once again.
Spirits whisper secrets - their mystery revealed.
The shadow’s face long hidden - no longer lies concealed.
(Instrumental repeat)
(Chorus)
I cry out to the boatman: “Do I really have to go?”
He nods in affirmation - fear once contained explodes.
The veil around is thinning till only threads remain. From spirit my body
forms
It’s substance drawn from flames.
The body born of earth and fire, returning once again.
The boatman calls our shore leave - We seek out long lost friends
Knowing that our time is short. Too soon we’ll have to leave.
The promise of the solstice waits. Tonight’s All Hallows Eve.
(Chorus)
Words and Music © Charles Stacey
Protector of her people a brave and faithful friend.
Keeper of this sacred place, a figure on the edge of time.
Moving through the mountain’s mist – a witness to the crime.
(Chorus)
Her eyes flash like the lightning bugs winking bright
to greet the night.
I feel her body dance by me as I offer her my song.
The moon’s bright face fills healing space as the
river rolls along.
The plants voice spoke their healing choice then came that fateful day.
With flesh and bone she stood alone against a raiders lance.
A pain like birth, blood fed the earth, the mys-ter-y’s dark
dance(Chorus)
The embers from her burning arbor just like tear drops fall.
Her people fill their ears with grief.Hate’s angry fearful call.
So they couldn’t hear the whisper of her free and joyful voice.
“My honor here just like the deer’s.Life’s offer was my
choice.(Chorus)
Her sisters kept the water’s flame that leapt from Brigit’s well
And brought the pipe and the buffalo white the ancient stories tell.
They hold life’s spark and light the dark these keepers of the flame.
Their task to heal the violence done in freedom’s name.(Chorus)
Santa Elena (Blue Bonnet Two Lane)
3-28-93
Words © Charles Stacey
Music © Alan Frost
Riding the bluebonnet two lane – west out of old San Antone.
Lunch time I’ll spend with the judge on the Pecos.
Then it’s on to the Big Bend and Home. I’m leaving behind my troubin’
mind –
But her goodbye is stuck in my heart.
So I’m trading the pain and the cold Houston rain – for a place where my
healing can start.
(Chorus)
So hold me please Santa Elena, Let me breath in your dry desert air
And soar to the heights with the peregrine’s flight
And the river wash away my despair – and dreams of her flaming red hair.
A love born of great des–per–a–tion, met a heart to wild to
tame.
Like springs melting snow from pure mountain streams flow.
Then soaks up the land’s choking shame.
She sings like a friend as hopes message she sends.
But the poison steals like a thief. It’s stored in the silt like my lover’s
dark guilt – The river’s invisible grief.
(Chorus)
The canyon a great hall of mirrors – the sunset surrounds me in light.
The white water boils, over boulders she toils.
Cleansed by her tumbling flight.
I then re-discover this red-headed lover.
With a heart beating wild and free.
She uses the pain and the tears and the rain
To carry us on toward the sea. A journey to set us both free.
(Chorus)
So hold me please Santa Elena, Let me breath in your dry desert air
and soar to the heights with the peregrine’s flight
and the river wash away my despair – and dry me in your flaming red hair.
12-30-89
Words & Music © by Charles Stacey
Her cold tears wash the desert floor – we share the sad sweet day.
But natures steady rhythm – pushes through the gloom
and celebrates with colors – as the desert starts to bloom.
I’m eastbound from El Paso, Harry Chapin’s on the radio.
I sang my songs and told my tales – to soon - it was time to go.
So many things I hoped to say – So much I tried to know –
Now pain and tears and unnamed fears give wayto meanings
shown.
Like the mountain I can see you sitting there – behind your veil of gray.
We’re each one working on a puzzle’s quest.
We search – for words to say.
The feelings and the mem-o-ries now safely tucked away-
behind the walls built thick and tall to silencethe demon’s
bay.
We dance a clumsy minuet – I’m here and you step there.
Trying hard to reach and touch and find outjust who’s there.
Sharing precious moments – so near and yet so far.
So much is said with silence – love guideslike the evening
star.
The hollow-ness in leaving you – hangs heavy like each time before
but this time something’s different.I’m touching so much more.
I came in search of answers but questions once thought tough-
found words to cheap for feelings deep – To beis now enough.
Life so like the desert sun – reflecting on the mountain side.
She shows a different face each time as through the years we glide.
The picture’s always changing- it never stays the same.
Like the whisper of the desert wind as she singsus life’s refrain.
1-1-92
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
for Terry Ayers, the songman on "B"day 40
The road is steep and rocky. The quest has carried them so far.
Weary from the journey, the past a heavy load
But the dream will share his burden. Companions, they
share the road.
Crossroads in the mist, so many ways to go.
No signs to mark the path. No stars to point the way to go.
The grail it whispers softly, out there in the dark.
Then the dream sings like a beacon, “listen to your heart.”
Some who reached to share your dream, were blinded by their fright.
For you the phoenix fire blazed hot. It burned away the dark of night
The dream transformed to eagle wings. Your destiny to fly.
Breathing in the dawn’s clear light -- the morning
star your guide.
You healed the wounded healer by sharing dream’s pure light.
Embraced this weary traveler and shared your precious gift of sight.
But who sings to the songman. Who will bind your wounds.
And let you rest your weary wings and in the dark night become your moon.
The songman and his vision – Following a star
The road is steep and rocky -- The quest has carried them so far
7-30-93
Words © by Holli Bara
Music © by Charles Stacey
For Becky
There’s A face at my window. She’s tapping on the pane.
The rain has soaked her hair and skin. It’s washed away her name.
Her mouth pleads in silence. This effort not in vain.
I open up the fortress gate and let the lost child in.
I lead her questions to the fire and blanket now her cold.
I give her tea and memory. The pages are fragile and old.
I Open up this tattered book , and lay it at her feet.
It holds the dreams I bought and sold and a few that I chanced to keep.
(Chorus)
One woman in the moon’s third phase, One growing in her first.
It’s the hour of their equinox at the hour of their birth.
She’s the green of early spring and I’m December snow.
It’s time to pass the looking and remember what we know.
With brown eyes so familiar. The Spring child looks at me.
She’s thankful for the shelter and she’s grateful for the tea.
I thank her for this sweet chance. This rare opportunity
To look out through my own pane and see what used to be
I kiss the roses in her face and I bid the girl goodbye
From my door I watch her choose the path that travels rather high.
I go back to my rocking chair and I warm myself within.
Resting by the memory’s fire I feel the wheel turn round again.
(Chorus)
7-20-93
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
I look out on the wheat fields. Miles and Miles of golden Grain.
Rolling like the ocean – it whispers out my name.
But clouds build in the distance – Like smoke without the flames.
If the hail comes I’ll be ruined – but the wheat sure nees the rain..
The spring has been a dry one. The south wind’s breath is hot.
Then a zephyr’s cool breath kisses me. Fear’s the only hope I got.
All the others run for cover – as the breeze builds to a gale.
The warrior of the north wind cries, his challenge shrieks and wails.
Lightning like the warrior’s spear, splits the mighty elm.
Thunder drowns my pleading voice and then a deeper rumble swells.
The shingles on the clapboard house stand as in a trance.
Ghostly hands toss the dry creek’s sand in a spinning dervish dance.
A finger from the sky’s dark fist follows the light’nings lead –
and touches ground with a roaring sound. I fear the dark clouds greed.
Moving with the fury. No time left to run.
The power holds me to her breast will I ever see the sun?
Standing on a high wire ‘tween earth and rolling sky –
Fear holds me with a strong dark hand but still won’t tell me why?
Then I’m pushed down by the screaming wind into earth’s soft fragrant arms.
Held so close in the ghostly glow, protected by an unseen charm.
Suspended in the balance ‘tween love and fear, part of the universe whole.
I stare up into a spiral to match the whirlwind in my soul
The spinning demon screams at me then moves along his way.
The fear glides past it just don’t last and my tears wash the dark red clay
Emerging from the earthy womb I’m cleansed by a gentle rain.
Refreshed the wheat, the land, and me can celebrate life again.
I hold the warm moist treasure gently in my trembling hand –
And fill my senses to the brim with the fragrance of the land.
I look out on the wheat fields–miles and miles
of golden grain.
Rolling like the ocean – it whispers out my name.
Clouds linger in the distance – like smoke without the flames.
The new moon’s magic smile fills the Oklahoma plains.
5-20-95
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
And a simple quest for justice and uncomplicated fate.
So how’s about a morsel from the muses boundless store.
Just a simple melody. I’ll ask for nothing more.
Nothing do I ask for me. It’s only for the song.
But I sure could use a new guitar. Now how could that be wrong?
And the song would sound much better with nice new speakers too.
And the amp is sounding fuzzy, come on Brigit it’s all for you.
I promise to be faithful and give you credit due.
Divine intervention is all I need from you.
Now surely that’s not too much for one so wise and strong.
I’d do it as a solo act but I fear it’d take too long.
Just a little detail in a universe so vast.
A tiny speck of talent, a bit player in your cast.
Now for one so insignificant to be seen above the crowd -
With a mansion and a limousine I could make you very proud.
A simple supplication to my goddess of the song.
A pot of gold extracted from a captured leprechaun.
Now some would call me dreamer or one just out of touch.
So show them what you’re made of girl, a gold record would shut them up.
(Bridge)
Don’t forget the chorus and the harmony so sweet
And the hook is so important and I’ll need a catchy beat.
I wouldn’t ask it just for me. I’m such a busy man.
But I’ll make time in my schedule if you’ll lend a helping hand.
Well, OK, forget the mansion and the limo stretched out long.
I’ll settle for the rhyming words to finish up this song.
Brigit I’m a simple man with simple country taste.
And a simple quest for justice and uncomplicated fate.
So how’s about a morsel from the muses boundless store.
Just a simple melody, I’ll ask for nothing more.
Words & Music © by
Charles Stacey
Describe the gentle
touch in a baby’s kiss.
Describe the warm embrace
of my lover’s eyes.
Describe the feel of
freedom in a desert sky.
(Chorus)
But words run from
their meaning – in syncopated time.
Saying
nothing,saying all – the echo’s speak in rhymes.
And finds its
voice in silence, lessons taught but not yet learned
Listen to the rustle of
the live oak tree.
Listen to the power in
the surging sea.
Listen to the terror in
the child’s cry.
Listen to the silence as
the eagle flies.
(Chorus)
But words run from
their meaning – in syncopated time.
Saying nothing,saying
all – the echo’s speak in rhymes.
Love rests someplace
between the sounds, it hides between the words
And finds its voice
in silence, lessons taught but not yet learned
Feel the strength
escaping in the cold wind’s bite.
Feel the heat of anger
in the dark of night.
Feel the fear that’s
pushing from some unseen place.
Feel the mem'ries stored
before the words could fill the space.
(Chorus)
But words run from
their meaning – in syncopated time.
Saying nothing,saying
all – the echo’s speak in rhymes.
Love rests someplace
between the sounds, it hides between the words
And finds its voice
in silence, lessons taught but not yet learned
Touch the hidden child
and send him out to play.
Touch the little girl
you find and ask her in to stay.
Touch the hand of
innocence and hold for all you’re worth.
Touch the healing
silence in the space between the words.
(Chorus)
But words run from
their meaning – in syncopated time.
Saying nothing,saying
all – the echo’s speak in rhymes.
Love rests someplace
between the sounds, it hides between the words
And finds its voice
in silence, lessons taught but not yet learned
10-26-93
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
The troubadour shares his dreams - from mist he weaves the shapes.
There for just a moment - the song held in his hand –
Like the night winds ghostly whisper or a painting made of
sand.
For years his songs stayed hidden in the dark - Pushing from an ageless aching heart.
His audience the blue jays in his back yard’s open air.
They echoed back in harmony the troubadours despair
The tapestry a fine one - He wove it thread by thread.
Then sang it to his children when he tucked them safe in bed.
There for just a moment - their dreams held in his hand.
And the story of their father’s world was painted in nights
sand.
The music from a gentle whisper grew - Like the desert drinks the crystal morning dew.
Life fed by the product of the cold dark wind of night.
Let’s the deserts celebration bloom in the mornings golden
light.
The color of the sunrise is still shining in his eyes,
but now it’s from a spotlight and his songs take wing and fly.
It doesn’t sound commercial. No, it doesn’t have a hook.
You see his life just doesn’t rhyme that way. His rhythm
doesn’t cook.
He’s standing in the spotlight alone there on the stage.
The troubadour shares his life - from dreams he weaves the shapes.
He offers them his three songs - his soul held in his hand
And he dreams of the day they’ll pay him and he’ll even have
a band.
But till that day he’ll step up to the mike
And bare his soul for free each Monday night.
You know he’s singing for your smile and he’s singing for his song
And he’s singing ‘cause the dream he dreams says that’s
where he belongs
He’s standing in the spotlight alone there on the stage.
The troubadour shares his dreams, from mist he weaves the
shapes.
He offers up his three songs - his soul held in his hands
‘cause the hurricane is blowing and his painting’s made of sand.
Words & Music © by Charles Stacey
Straining to see shapes in the dark.Nothing can budge the ache and fear in my heart.
Nothing can budge the ache and fear in my heart.
The spirit of the nighttime holds me in his cold dark hand.
His gentle whisper is begging me to understand.
Nothing’s on T.V. – I don’t want to read.Pacing the floor and praying for the strength that I need.
Nothing to hold to but my old six string, an empty dark feeling and this song that I sing.
The boogie man sings a strange melody.He grins at the thought of just what I’m fixing to see.
He grins at the thought of just what I’m fixing to see.
Chorus
No place to run to – there’s no place to hide.The truth that I’ running from I’m holding inside.
Dark fleeting glimpses of places I’ve been.Feeling new feelings for the first time all over again.
Feeling new feelings for the first time all over
again.
Chorus
11-12-92
Words © by Charles Stacey Music © by Alan Frost & Charles
Stacey
Waltzing with the east wind, there’s the whisper of an old friend as the
angel spreads her snow white wings
Cradled on the ebb tide; dis-cov-er-y a jealous bride; the morning star a
shining beacon’s light.
(Chorus)
Dancing with the dolphins past the Boliver Roads – Blue Wa-ters call to
me.
Bathed in tears my lady cried, She’s calling me back. I’m torn ‘tween
land and sea –
Two loves calling to me; whisper “use me”. Then the other begs
"no, me" – which one will it be?
Lost within my lady’s eyes, I bargained with the sunrise and rested in the
harbor of her arms.
She begged with me to stay behind – forsake a life so oft’ unkind – the world
beyond the fifty fathom line.
(Chorus)
The wake is singing softly as the jetty’s arms release me from the shelter
of my lady’s warm embrace
Balanced for a heart beat – where sky and sea and land meet – The dreamer’s
song is growing in my heart.
(Chorus)
From Saint Croix to the Yucatan and the mys-ter-y of foreign lands
I'm borne on waves like shoulders broad and strong
To chose between sec-ur-ity and the challenge of the des-ti-ny but storm clouds
build, I’m longing for a rest
(Chorus)
To sail past far horizons and follow a dream – Blue wa-ters call my name.
Rain like tears my lady cried – She calling me back. I’m torn ‘tween land
and sea -
Two loves beckon to me, They whisper “choose me”, then the other begs
“no, Me” – Which one will it be
The Wizard Rides Tonight
4/7/96
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
Chorus
So silver hooves are flashing through the Kildare Night.
A ghostly apparition rounds the Curragh in the full moon’s light.
Waiting are the faithful to resume the freedom fight.
Enchanted till his steed’s bright shoes wear thin from flight. The
Wizard rides tonight.
Earl Gerald was a son of Erin true - Who’s skill with sword and magic spell
both grew.
As a warrior he defended Brigit’s land - as a wizard was betrayed by his own
hand. Chorus
Rath Mullymust enchantress she did dare to teach the Wizard secrets few had
shared
But the Warrior danced to Brigit’s melody so the crone she cursed the Earl to
endless sleep.
Bridge
But each seven years through time he’ll reappear and ride to gain release
from jealous fear
Until the miller son’s six fingered hand will break the spell and free the
Kildare man. Chorus
His knights’ in armor sleep by saddled steeds in a cavern far below the
castle keep
And Earl Gerald waits to face his ancient foe and take his promised place on
Erin’s throne. Chorus
Earl Gerald was a son of Erin true - Who’s skill with sword and magic spell
both grew.
As a warrior he defended Brigit’s land - as a wizard was betrayed by his own
hand. Chorus
Words & Music © by Charles Stacey
You’re offering me something that’s new to me.
More than I ever thought that love could be.I’m lost in the wonder and feeling so fine.
But wait just a minute – What’s yours and what’s mine?
What should I say–What part should I play.
Sitting alone now and feeling the fear.
What in the hell am I doing here?All the old feelings come crashing on down.
I’m feeling so small- I’m starting to drown.
What should I say–What part should I play.
The search for approval – Just what should I be?
Wondering just exactly what you’re wanting to see. Running my mouth so I don’t disappear.
Keeping you at arm’s length so you won’t see my fear.
What should I say–What part should I play.
I’m fighting surrender and feeling the pain.
Staring in the face of the long lost shame.Surrounding myself in angers cocoon -
Protected from touching the feelings too soon.
What should I say–What part should I play.
Learning the lesson of being just me.
Feeling the meaning of in-ti-macy.The special new love holds me so strong.
Putting old feelings in the place they belong.
Words and Music © by Charles Stacey
(Chorus)
So take this white gardenia love and place it in your hair.
I’ll send you one each day I live to show you someone cares.
Sleep you with the fragrance and the petals softness share.
Remember that I love you and I care.
About a fair maid come to Belfast and the one who sought her hand.
A simple tale of tragedy and pain...I’ll explain.
Her hair the red of sunset. Her eyes an emerald cast.
A refugee from famine and the war...But wait there’s more.
Smoke stacks burned the blue sky brown. Their dark wind filled her heart.
Her lungs cried out for mercy, but she found her country
spark.
It’s there I first laid eyes on her, a spring flower bloomin fair.
my heart cried out in ecstasy to see my true love there.
A goddess finding form in mortal clothes ... times message
froze. (Chorus)
I shared the park each day with her. The moon kept count above.
I wrote the mystery maiden songs that told her of my love.
She sang along with harmony and grace...In the safe green space.
We’d bathe within the warm sweet scent but then she’d disappear.
She said she had to go alone and that I shouldn’t fear.
A part of her she never let me hold...A power untold.
I felt her fade away from me, so frail in the winter’s grasp.
A casualty of the city’s cold dark rain...But who’s to
blame?
They found me from the poems that lay there by her side.
Then the fresh gardenia standing by the bed...Turned flaming red. (Chorus)
Ten years passed so slowly - Adrift in the winters land.
I stand here at her graveside white gardenia in my hand.
Petals soft and warm soon frozen cold - I feel so old.
Love’s mem’ry all to hold my heart then she hands me one last song.
A ceili dance it echos through my soul. A song so bold.
I lay the blossom on her grave. It takes the crimson hue,
Then my lovers kiss steals my breath away and I’m dancing with my muse.
She reached across the void of time and space.... To touch
my face.
And look far down on Belfast town from the sunbeam’s gleaming flight.
At its base the crimson blossom bathed in light once more
turns white. (Chorus)