Too late to love
Reading ballads of love and valor
The Soldier and the Lady
A soldier come from Georgia way,
Of ridin’ he was weary.
He tingled on the side-door ring
To hearken up his lady.
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She’s took him by the bridle line,
She’s led him to the stable.
“Here’s oats, here’s corn, here’s hay for your horse,
Let him eat what he is able.”
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She’s took him by the lily-white hand,
She’s led him to the table.
“Here’s cakes and wine for you, my dear,
Come eat what you are able.”
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She’s went to smooth his downy bed,
And she smoothed it like a lady,
And off she took her red, red dress,
Said, “Dearie, are you ready?”
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Off come his bugle soldier’s coat,
Off come his boots of leather,
And quickly into bed he jumped,
And there they lay together.
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He held her high, he held her low,
For hours one, two. and three,
When the bugle blew, she did fear so much
Did sound forth cruelly.
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“When shall we meet and marry, dear,
If you cannot tarry?”
“When cockle-shells turn silver bells,
‘Tis then that we shall marry.”
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Eggshell Love
Once I had a sweetheart (roughly interpreted)
This traditional song of which I only play guitar was most memorably played and sung by Bert Jansch on his record album entitled “Rosemary Lane”. Bert Jansch (since gone from this world) was probably more influencial than many other musicians on my psyche (human mind, soul, and spirit). My improvised version is imperfect and perhaps flawed in its brevity, but nevertheless is expressive of the vulnerability that is revealed in matters of the heart. S.R.B.
Either way it goes
The Sand Dollar
The Sand Dollar
Walking around the curve of beach
The light house still far to the west
Out over seemingly endless dunes
An infinite distance reminding me
Of the poet who observed that
Beyond mountains
Were more mountains,
Soon after my companion turned back
I accepted the futility of continuing
But in my turning around
Circumventing the ocean’s horizon
Looked down upon a treasure trove of shells
Glittering beneath my feet,
There in the curls of seaweed
I found a sand dollar
Smooth and round
Ten pine like needles radiating
The image of the moon
Which would soon appear
Over the darkening sea