.

 I musta wrote and recorded more songs than this,
but these are the quickest few I could easily dig up in a pinch.

The concept of stars actually falling to earth is preposterous, so this song must be about the end times, when heaven and earth seem to be falling apart. Anne Weger on piano does a wonderful job, as always, and I hope this song conveys a sense of hope in otherwise seemingly hopeless times. Usually I don’t like repetitive songs, but traditional Spirituals are meant to express a heartfelt sentiment, and to drive it home. The next few songs fit that category too.

MY LORD, WHAT A MORNING!

My Lord, what a morning! My Lord, What a morning! O! My Lord, what a morning, when the stars begin to fall!

(Repeat)

Done quit all my worldly ways, joined that heavenly band.

(Repeat)

Anne and I changed the lyrics slightly from the traditional words, mainly to get rid of the phrase “sin-sick.” I don’t know anyone who has ever identified with feeling “sin-sick,” but I know plenty of people who have felt weary.

THERE IS A BALM IN GILEAD

There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole.
There is a balm in Gilead to heal the weary soul.

Sometimes I feel discouraged, and think my work’s in vain,
but then the Holy Spirit revives my soul again.

(Repeat)

If you can’t preach like Peter, if you can’t pray like Paul,
just tell the love of Jesus, and say he died for all.

There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole.
There is a balm in Gilead to heal the weary soul,
to heal the weary soul.

I am not a “cat person,” but, for about thirteen years or so, a cat named Quaker lived in my warehouse space on South Quarantina Street in Santa Barbara. I lived there too. Quaker invaded my bed at night, slouched on my sofa by day, and I made the mistake of buying cat-food salmon in a can, and opening it for him every day.

QUAKER IS A CAT

Quaker is a cat, and he’s really a big one.

Quaker is a cat, he’s an orange tom.

Quaker is a cat, if you got room to swing one;

He’ll cross your path, and he got your tongue.

CHORUS:

Trips you down the stairs, and he doesn’t regret it;

Scratches up the chairs, and he licks his paw.

Walks across your stuff, no matter where you set it.

He eats food, sleeps hard, fights tooth and claw (Meow!)

Quaker is a cat who will jump on your car hood,

As you’re pulling up, just to say hello.

Pat him on the head, and you’ll stir up a dust cloud.

You got a friend for life, and he won’t let you go.

CHORUS

Quaker took a nap, and it wasn’t a short one.

Quaker’s got your lap, and you want it back.

Dump him on the floor, and he thinks that’s it’s lunch time.

You gotta wake him up just to have some fun.

CHORUS

Quaker is a cat, and he’s really a big one.

Quaker is a cat, he’s an orange tom.

Quaker is a cat, if you got room to swing one;

He’ll cross your path, and he got your tongue.

I admit it: This song is totally annoying, but it does tell a poignant story of a man who devotes his life to his vocation in order to support his family … at the expense of losing his family and his sanity. If you listen to it carefully, you might also lose your sanity, but hopefully not also your family. Okay, don’t listen to it.

I CAN’T GET THIS SONG OUT OF MY HEAD

I can’t get this song out of my head;

No, I can’t get this song out of my head.

The sweet song she whispered, the words that she said!

I can’t get this song out of my head.

I grew up early, and I went to war.

I walked around the world until my feet were sore.

I never met a better than the girl next door,

and her song runs around in my head:

We had a couple kids and a dog named Spot.

I made a living working as an astronaut.

I thought about ‘em all the time, I missed ‘em a lot,

up in orbit like the song in my head.

I can’t get this song out of my head;

No, I can’t get this song out of my head.

I dreamed that they saw me pass by overhead,

and I can’t get this song out of my head.

I got an assignment on a sleeper ship:

suspended animation for the whole damn trip.

My kids would only know me as a radio blip.

When I seen ‘em they was grown up and dead.

Lost in space for twenty million years,

I’m comin’ back with twenty million souvenirs.

Whatja figure hadda be the first thing I’d hear?

And it’s still a-runnin’ round in my head!

I can’t get this song out of my head;

No, I can’t get this song out of my head.

The green hills of Earth are all dusty and red,

and I can’t get this song out of my head.

Everywhere I go, I hear the same old song.

Everybody gotta come and sing along.

Every time I turn around, I get it all wrong,

and I think I’ve gone right out of my head.

I fell off my rocker, and I ran to a shrink,

I step inside his waiting room, and whaddya think?

Full of looney toonies playing tiddly wink,

as they whistle to a tune in their head.

(whistling)

I’m sittin’ home and quiet, when the doorbell rings:

a fellah in a toga and a pair of wings.

I didn’t even have a chance to pack my things,

Had to follow where the messenger led.

Tethered to a silver thread, I followed the light.

A couple constellations, and I turned to the right.

I wonder when the light of day come out of the night,

or I wake up, safe and sound, home in bed.

I can’t get this song out of my head;

No, I can’t get this song out of my head.

The voices I thought I heard sing overhead were lamenting from downstairs instead!

and I can’t get this song out of my head.

I can’t get this song out of my head;

No, I can’t get this song out of my head.

It goes round and round, round and round in my head,

I can’t get this song out of my head.

Barney Powell plays guitar on this song. He and his buddies were playing this tune out in the Desert, and one of them commented that it sounded like a pirate song, so I wrote lyrics and added more instruments using Garage Band. My throat was sore for several days afterward.

PIRATE SONG

(Shut up and let him sing!)

The wind’s in me sails, and the shore’s far away;

the sun’s on the waves at the start of the day.

The creak of the riggin’, the cry of the gull,

the thunder of waves as they pound on the hull!

So batten the hatches and swab all the decks,'

and stand by your posts, or I’ll break all your necks!

There’s salt in the air and there’s foam on the sea!

CHORUS:

That’s the life for me, a pirate’s life for me!

That’s the life for me, at home on the open sea!

Avast, all ye lubbers, and haul on your ropes!

We’ll ride up the breakers and slide down their slopes.

A pipe and a bottle will set your heart free.

CHORUS

So scan the horizon, and keep one eye sharp,

or swim with that sailor wrapped up in a tarp!

The captain’s on deck, so look bright, ye swabs!

All hands beat to quarters if you value your jobs!

Forget you have families, think not of your wives,

just follow orders if you value your lives!

Now tamp down your charges and stick to your guns;

lash fast your cannons, ye dead mothers’ sons!

A cutlass in one hand, a knife in me teeth!

CHORUS

So shiver me timbers and rattle me bones,

a man overboard is a man all alone.

Now hoist Jolly Roger, the whole world to see!

That’s the life for me, a pirate’s life for me!

That’s the life for me, a pirate’s life for me! (ha ha ha ha!)

Bryan Mumford e-mailed me during the Cave Fire in Santa Barbara, saying his wife took the dog and drove away in the truck. I replied that it sounded like a country song. The next day Bryan emailed these lyrics, which he wrote in the shower, to the tune of “Good Night, Irene.” My apologies to Alex Heflin. (By the way, Bryan’s house did not burn down.)

BRYAN’S CAVE FIRE SONG

The sheriff was in a big hurry,

didn’t wait around for debate.

When he said it was time to be goin’,

I knew it was already too late.

CHORUS:

Good night, Irene; Irene, good night.

Good night, Irene, good night, Irene, I’ll see you in my dreams.

The fire, it burned on the mountain;

the ash fell all over my truck.

They say there’s an abbey in Downton,

but I know now that I’m out of luck.

CHORUS

My wife took my dog and she left me.

The wildfire burned my house down.

I’m feeling so sad and lonely,

I could lie in the mudslide and drown.

CHORUS

Good night, Irene, good night, Irene, I’ll see you in my dreams.

Awhile back, Google offered a “Google Doodle” in honor of Bach’s birthday, wherewith you could write two bars of a melody, and the Doodle would generate harmony based on what Bach might have done (were he not rolling in his grave). I took it a few steps further by entering in music two measures at a time for “Now Thank We All Our God,” for which Bach actually DID write harmonies. Then I combined them using GarageBand, assigned virtual instruments to various parts, and here’s what came out. Wanna try it? Click on -> “Google Doodle” and it should take you to that Doodle. It’s fun!

NOW THANK WE ALL OUR GOD

Now thank we all our God

with heart and hands and voices,

who wondrous things has done,

in whom his world rejoices;

who from our mothers' arms

has blessed us on our way

with countless gifts of love,

and still is ours today.

O may this bounteous God

through all our life be near us,

with ever joyful hearts

and blessed peace to cheer us,

to keep us in his grace,

and guide us when perplexed,

and free us from all ills

of this world in the next.

All praise and thanks to God

the Father now be given,

the Son and Spirit blest,

who reign in highest heaven;

the one eternal God,

whom heaven and earth adore;

for thus it was, is now,

and shall be evermore. 

I wish we could have recorded this better, because you can barely hear Anne Weger’s beautiful piano playing. Tiffany Kishiyama sings the lovely high-voice part, and I do my best to hold up the low notes.

ON EAGLE’S WINGS

CHORUS:

And he will raise you up on eagle’s wings,

bear you on the breath of dawn,

make you to shine like the sun,

and hold you in the palm of his hand.

You who dwell in the shelter of the Lord,

who abide in his shadow by night:

Pray to the Lord, my Refuge,

my Rock in whom I trust.

CHORUS

The snare of the fowler will never capture you,

and famine will bring you no fear.

Under his wings, your refuge,

his faithfulness, your shield.

CHORUS

You need not fear the terror of the night,

nor the arrow that flies by day.

Though thousands fall about you,

Near you it shall not come.

CHORUS

For to his angels he’s given a command,

To guard you through all of your ways.

Upon their hands they will bear you up,

lest you dash your foot against a stone.

CHORUS

In the palm of his hand.

Bryan emailed me this tune he played on a mandolin or a mandola or something, so I felt compelled to write lyrics. I have no idea why it has anything to do with a father waiting for his sailor son to return to some harbor. That kinda thing ain’t in my wheelhouse. But here it is. At least the title makes sense, because Bryan is a(n) horologist. Then Bryan’s friend took my music file and tweaked it in an unexpected way. I’m not sure whether I’m complaining or grateful. You decide.

TIME WILL TELL

Time will tell, as days go by,

I spend my evenings at the harbor…

My eyes grow weary as the daylight fails.

Sailors sail out to sea,

always dreaming of a harbor,

their lives determined furled by wind-blown sails.

How long shall I wait?

How long shall I stay in this place?

How shall I learn to count the days?

All is well! His sails I spy,

his ship arriving to the harbor.

My son returns despite the squalls and gales.

I love singing the old spirituals. They are simple and soulful.

GIVE ME JESUS

Oh, when I come to die … oh, when I come to die … oh, when I come to die,

give me Jesus.

Give me Jesus, give me Jesus! You may have all this world; give me Jesus.

Dark midnight was my cry … dark midnight was my cry … dark midnight was my cry,

give me Jesus.

Give me Jesus, give me Jesus! You may have all this world; give me Jesus.

Give me Jesus, give me Jesus! You may have all this world, with its troubles and cares,

But of this I am sure: Give me Jesus!