Al-le-lu--a, Al-le-lu--a, Al-le-lu-u-ia,

Al-le-lu--a, Al-le-lu--a, Al-le-lu-u-ia,

Praise to the Fath-er, Praise to the Son, They, and the Spir-it, One

As we sing,

Al-le-lu--a, Al-le-lu--a, Al-le-lu-u-ia,

Al-le-lu--a, Al-le-lu--a, Al-le-lu-u-ia,

Al-le-lu-u-ia,

with a special affinity, for the reflecting pane

but it’s not my demeanor, my smile or my eyes

through which i seek my prize

no it’s back-to-the-mirror where i get my laughs

musing on what my accusers would see

if truly they could see through me

as i pour out my song for this intimate crowd

they can hardly imagine, a time i was well-endowed

with bravado befitting the range of my schemes

no more, nor less, it seems

so it’s back-to-the-mirror where i make my stand

shining, transparent, yet fully in view

where they can find me just like you

and it’s back to the mirror, my image is free

of wrinkles and blemishes

it’s just as well nobody else can see

at the end of my set i’ll meander backstage

where the answer will come to me, silent, beyond the rage

and that “piece” of my soul will be differently spelled

no grief to buy nor sell

for it’s back-to-the-mirror where i’ll take my rest

casting the limelight that never found me

through what then seemed eternity

and it’s back to the mirror, my image is free

of wrinkles and blemishes

it’s just as well nobody else can see

yes it’s back-to-the-mirror where i get my laughs

musing on what my accusers would see

if truly they could see through me

BEHOLDING YOU

the dawn and the dew, the sun in my eye

remind me of you, imagine the high

like sundays in june

are the moments i spend beholding you

who could help falling in love

in the sunlight you bring to the early morn

as for me, i dream only of

that kiss on my brow that awakens me to

only you, only you

no wind and no rain can bother me here

nor sorrow nor pain, as long as you're near

no time for the blues

when there's time i could spend beholding you

i was lost in the lonely wee hours

gazing at stars from my window sill

but you know, the stars turned to showers

of a sun-basted glow, and within it i saw

only you, only you

long ago, seems i was told

to have and to hold is a passing dream

but i know, here in my soul

that dream has survived, and it finds me beside

only you, only you

(oo-oo-oo-oo, ooh... )

like sundays in june

are the moments i spend beholding you

=========================================

Copyright ©1981 Ryeside Music (BMI)

BERKSHIRE BLUE

hoosie runs by, under my sill,
winding her way, through mountain and mill
gleaning from these her mysterious hue called,
berkshire blue

lindsay and i played to the crowd
speaking our minds, brazen and proud
but townie persuasions would rend us in two, bleeding…
berkshire blue

river rolls on, nursing her sheep
here on the heights, my silence i keep
passively mending, sadly but sure
small my troubles by what she's endured

hoosie my friend, wend as you will
lumb'ring your way past haven and hill
but render for me a more certaining hue of…
berkshire blue
berkshire blue

     (break)

trying to break in, just being me
grave was my sin to those not so free
free of the airs that keep them in chains
chiming liberties they'll never claim

summer has waned, autumn draws nigh
deciduous rainbows on choc'late-grey skies
fade in a dreamscape so richly imbued, with…
berkshire blue, yes
berkshire blue

hoosie my friend, wend as you will
lumb'ring your way past haven and hill
render for me a more certaining hue of…
berkshire blue

COGNITO

how dassed you wish beyond your star

that you’d presume to go so far

as those of nobler name, of whom not one’s to blame

for what’s become of you

at least we know now who you are

though still we mock you from afar

we never thought to trust, you might be one of us

that took its toll on you

now that you’ve licked us at our game,

and won’t go back to whence you came

we’ll take you in awhile, until you’re out of style again

cognito, at long last we’ve found you

cognito, we can’t get around you

nor all that you’ve done so well, rising each time you fell

no need your side to tell, we always knew

though not cut out for wealth or fame

your quest for both deserves no shame

for selfless diligence has brought you recompense

beyond our wildest dreams

in friends who proudly can proclaim

they stood behind you even when

there was no telling how you might survive till now

despite our every scheme

those vast ambitions of your soul, that always left us in the cold

now find you realized, within our very eyes to hold

cognito, at long last we’ve found you

cognito, we can’t get around you

rising each time you fell, to a heaven you carved from hell

no need your side to tell, we always knew

=============================================

c. 2001 Ryeside Music (BMI)

COUNTERFILE

Alone in a bag in my closet,

hangs a suit with a story to tell.

I had it tailor made for an interview date,

that would lift my career out of hell.

But the date met with swift cancelation,

no reason, no charges, nor trial:

I wonder what they found this time, in my counterfile.

My wife's got the same occupation,

at least by credentials, you see.

But searching for suitable placement,

she's done even worsely than me.

In this I find no consolation,

it's prob'ly from our trip down the aisle.

I'm sure there's a record of that in her counterfile.

Yeah, living's a bitch, when there's a glitch,

in your counterfile.

I still got that blurb from the paper,

that says Joe McCarthy expired.

If that was the end of such capers,

what keeps me stuck in the mire?

Perhaps it's positions I've taken,

on issues of equity true.

But why should I beg, for a chance to renege,

when I'd only profess them anew.

'Cause what would be shown for such changes?

Just another round of revile,

drawn from the palette of lies in my counterfile.

Yeah, refusing to mime is a capital crime,

says my counterfile.

When someday I answer to Jesus,

for what with my talent I found,

I hope in His mercy He'll notice

how squarely I stood my ground.

And so, come the day of my judgment,

on which I surrender my soul,

I'll reach for the hand of Saint Peter,

and ask if there's room in the fold.

Though I got no claim to no halo,

I pray only just for this while,

the truth will be measured against

what's in my counterfile.

Or is there a hold, on the fate of my soul,

in my counterfile, in my counterfile,

in my counterfile, in my counterfile.

==============================================

Copyright ©2000 Ryeside Music (BMI)

DON'T RUSH ME      (expect long intro!)

ba-by ba-by, what-cha try-in' to say
no it's not that i don't trust you, but i know
things ain't work-in' in their na-tur-al way
and it's time i set my mind to tell you so
in-se-cur-i-ties are hold-ing you fast
to the no-tion you must tight-en up these reins
un-der-stand-ing you've been hurt in the past
still i can't a-bide you tug-ging at my veins

heed me close-ly and i’ll spell it out once more,
sen-si-tive and tact-ful as i can
i can't whisk a-way what's hap-pened be-fore
but this i know for sure, i’m ready to im-plore

(don't rush me) i want you so,
but need to know, you'll let it grow
just give me time, in which to find
if i'm in-clined, to make you mine
don't rush me please

hav-ing made the point and hold-ing my ground
though it’s not been my con-ven-tion to ab-stain
why risk lay-ing our re-la-tion-ship down
for to bear the same in-dig-ni-ties a-gain
re-al-iz-ing i’ve had hurts of my own
can you find it in your heart to let ‘em heal
there’ll be time e-nough for mend-ing what’s blown
and we’ll need it all to har-vest what is real

heed me close-ly and i’ll spell it out once more,
sen-si-tive and tact-ful as i can
i can't whisk a-way what's hap-pened be-fore
but this i know for sure, i’m ready to im-plore

(don't rush me)  i want you so
but need to know, you'll let it grow
just give me time, in which to find
if i'm in-clined, to make you mine
don't rush me please, please

i want you so, but need to know,
you'll take it slow, and let it grow
please give me time, in which to find,
if i'm de-signed, to make you mine
don't rush me

don't rush me, don't rush me,
don't rush me, don't rush me,
don't rush me, don't rush me,
don't rush me, don't rush me
===============================================

Copyright ©2001 Ryeside Music (BMI)

DRUTHERS

ev‘ry night he wakes, bracing for tomorrow
morning soon to break, can’t afford the sorrow

reaching for the nearest phone
he replays a voice-mail that she moaned, early last evening
said she needs more healing time
nothing he can form in phrase or mime will stop the bleeding
with a sigh he concedes

she’s got that "i’m gonna tell him i need more time to think
but i’ve made up my mind" look
designed with intention to see his name in ink
in her suitors declined book

and ev‘ry time she rings, still he runs to answer
bending to her voice, bowing to romance her

then the all-familiar news
leaves him with his tongue tied to those shoes he won’t be needing
flowers to be flushed away
with her late respondez s’il vous plait, so much for breeding
yet he still can’t believe

she’s got that "i’m gonna tell him i need more time to think
but i’ve made up my mind" look
designed with intention to see his name in ink
in her suitors declined book

and ev‘ry lie she tells generates another
oceans waves may may swell, many tears to smother
i’d fare just as well hitting on her mother
'cause potions no one sells to wash away her druthers

=========================================

Copyright ©2003 Ryeside Music (BMI)

FOR THE AGES

a smile, when fond remembered can perpetuate the light 

that so faithfully illuminates one's way

and of yours it can be said, that a flame was resurrected

when i heard it in your laugh the other day

though the miles have long since rendered your affections dim and slight

how the pattern of consistency remains

for our plans may have diverged, at a time of lesser urgency

and now we see the frailty of our gains

for what is a life but a phrase now filling pages

woven through chapters of the heart that play as one

and if the wealth of tears and laughs, dwells in a single paragraph

scribed above, that's a love for the ages (2x)

the best i might remember, is the worst i could forget

of a child i can't relate to anymore

and of you i’d say the same, though i truly couldn’t blame you

for the time i watched you fading from my door

as our chance return engagement takes an old familiar turn

toward the wayward same directions of our prime

though we still must say goodbye, now at last we say it eye to eye

and find we’ve made the better of the time

for what is to love but to turn the flaming pages

knowing the words thereon will singe but never burn

and if the warmest of laments, swells from a fire still unspent

that's enough, it's a love for the ages

that's enough, it's a love for the ages...

(c) 2006 ryeside music (bmi)

(father:)

angel dearest, answer me true, was there something i didn't do

all that time invested in you for this bird

tell me princess, where did i stray, private schooling, you did okay

now you plan to throw it away for this bird

if he's so smart, when does he start

building a home for two

life in a flat, that's where it's at for him

not for you

darling daughter, listen to me, don't be hast'ning just to be free

free to feel, to think, and to see for this bird

(daughter:)

father dear, if only you knew, all the things my honey can do

maybe then you'd soften your view for this bird

what he lacks in chattel and bonds, i fear not for looking beyond

don't begrudge me how i respond for this bird

please understand, i didn't plan

growing with grace and style

now if i may, i gotta say it's time

i could smile

so, sweet pater, listen to me

if that means it's you or it's he

take this number, that's where i'll be

for this bird

HOLIDAYS MY ASS 

the latest in fashion (the old double breaster)

created with passion (befitting a jester)

illusions of pretense, making your day

(i wouldn’t have it any other way)

the heels of a dancer (the soles of a flounder)

recall the romancer (though shorter and rounder)

illusions of pretense, making your day

(i wouldn’t have it any other way,

‘cause how can you be a loser when

you’re not invited to the game)

though i’m champion till i’ve been proven chump

from here where i stand, it’s really the same

my spirited phaeton (the old rumble-seater)

can easily take on (the best of the beaters)

illusions of pretense, making your day

(i wouldn’t have it any other way...)

(yeah, how can you be a loser when

you’re not invited to the game)

though i’m champion till i’ve been proven chump

from here where i stand, it’s really the same

a jaunt to the ballpark, (a roast in the bleachers)

there’s beef in these hot dogs (among other creatures)

illusions of pretense, making your day

(i wouldn’t have it any other way...)

yeah, we really show ’em how

(better call the plumber now)

illusions of pretense, making your day

IN LOVE YOU SURVIVE

INSENSITONS

IT'S HITTING                         (** =  4 notes)

Politics, anyone?  My hometown Selectmen got this brainstorm of trying to build a fire station in the park of a residential neighborhood.  Keep Gilmore Green, my answer, became an anthem for residents many of whose homes had been purchased because of the park.  I hereby grant my blessing to any homeowner in the free world who might be tempted to use this song toward the same objective.  -- njm

===================================================

LAKE WINDSOR LADY

beyond the byways where shell gives way to ground

far from the highway that skirts the nearest town

begins a swath lined with grasses overgrown

where chirps and trills tell me, i’m not alone, and

frills from the moon tide ripple the sand

lake windsor lady stands out a hand

to still the waters of this bleak and troubled land

beads from the night fog sprinkle the grass

lake windsor lady fends off the pass

of ev’ry fisher boy who to her heart would cast

and from the shallows they fix a wistful gaze

how dare they shadow this princess of the haze

if lame desire rose to opportunity

their quenchless fire would return through her to me

for i as well was enraptured by her way

and from my cell i can only rue the day

off’ring my soul confidently to her guile, i came removed

in the shackles of revile, now

shoots from the campfires flecken the blue

lake windsor lady taking the cue

backpedals aimlessly and stumbles out of view

but she’ll return to the anglers’ crude delight

no need to nurture what gestures can requite

their dogged cat calls are all she needs to hear

no time for love, too much anguish too much fear

and from her lair ‘neath the beechwood canopy

her silent blare reaches ‘yond the iron to me

till my response which to this day hasn’t changed,

returned to her

leaves me all the more estranged, while

frills from the moon tide rippling the sand,

lake windsor lady stands out a hand

to bless the waters of this bleak and troubled land

MADELEINE

MERCUTIO IN PENNY-LOAFERS

twelve were my kin; e-lev-en, my broth-ers
ten were my slaves, oh, where have they gone
nine were my fools, eight were my her-oes
se-ven, my min-strels draf-ting their songs
six were the en-e-my, five were my friends
how might i see them and touch them a-gain
four were my spies, three were my lov-ers
two were my bib-les
one was my tes-ta-ment

for-ward i flew, fast toward to-mor-row
of-ten for-get-ting the tasks of to-day
ig-nor-ing the ruins of yes-ter-day's free-doms
these in my mind for-e-ver will stay
oh what a pi-ty i've ne-ver out-grown
cot-ton-tailed dreams that pro-fit me none
but still i've got time, and still i've got wis-dom
and, come the chill
my har-vest-ing will be done

loud-ly i laughed with the outs of my in-no-cence
sound-ly i scoffed at the knights of my day
like mer-cu-ti-o, in pen-ny-loaf-er shoes
bend-ing the truth to my blade

loud-ly i laughed with the outs of my in-no-cence
sound-ly i scoffed at the knights of my day
like mer-cu-ti-o, in pen-ny-loaf-er shoes
bend-ing the truth to my blade, and
bleed-ing my best years a-way

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

MIDWEEK IN MASSASSIPPI

'neath a back-lit semi-dome, where a king once made his home

they praise each other’s vapid re-creations

played for chicks they couldn’t swoon, with guitars they never tune

and chordings that betray their desiccation

then like elvis in the stall, sits the weakest of them all

for his regimen of scheduled acclamation

as i humbly wait my turn, thinking soon he will adjourn

to where he plies his daily occupation

but i’ll still take time to get my licks in

wond’ring how the mason-dixon

made its round across the sound and nestled in our hills

where the keepers of the stock

sift the content from the schlock

chalk it up to midweek in massassippi

since my teens I’ve had the knack, of rephrasing any fact

in tapestries of melody and rhythm

but I've failed in my respect, for this childish disconnect

that keeps me and my peers across the schism

of artistic jealousy -- did they cut it just for me

is but one amongst the diggers that creative

so I wait my three-and-out, with a smirk behind my pout

in case we accidentally wake the natives

but they'll all rise up in adulation

come the evening's culmination

songs of our collective nation bleeding from their brows

be you country, folk, or rock,

here's your place to turn the clock

set it back to midweek in massassippi

and i’ll still make time to get my kicks in

shifting eyes like richard nixon

reapprised of all his tricks and dreaming up my own

till the keepers of the stock save the cheddar from the crock

a single generation... tradition doesn’t make

but now and then creation... gives the genes a little shake

 my papa's high position... left mom to tend the fold

which begs for inquisition... ‘bout the music in my soul

the rockers call it country... the cowboys call it folk

while the minstrels say it’s funky... which keeps me free and broke

a lett is not a russian... a lapp is not a finn

and christ was not a christian... till the gen-tiles want-ed in

ev‘rybody wants a piece of salvation

and they can’t just let the whole kingdom come

the listeners grow impatient... the laughers grab the scene

and critics trash in silence... what in truth they can’t demean

while passively pretending... to honor their elite

it’s all that i can do...  to keep my rhythm in my feet

the rockers call it country... the cowboys call it folk

while the minstrels say it’s funky... forgive me, where’s the joke

a lett is not a russian... a lapp is not a finn

and christ was not a christian... till the gen-tiles want-ed in

ev‘rybody wants a piece of salvation

and they can’t just let the whole kingdom come

REAR-VIEW LIVES

trudging through the auto graveyard, trying to buy some time

and time i found, in great abundance, to reflect on mine

starting out, all i sought for, was a sounder wheel

but so much than i’d bargained for lay amid the steel

     old maps and ledgers, old cams and gears

     and chrome-plate headers i hadn’t seen in years

     all through this rubble, there still survive

     old rear-view mirrors, old rear-view lives

tommy hyde was all tri-county, till the harvest ball

a wayward turn, a lesson learned, the scent of alcohol

life forgets, but love remembers, as the heart demands

and from this feeling comes the healing of a higher hand

     old maps and ledgers, old cams and gears

     and chrome-plate headers i hadn’t seen in years

     all through this rubble, there still survive

     old rear-view mirrors, old rear-view lives

          velvet dice and woven poppies, a tangled rosary

          speak the mind of generations, and their voices of freedom

after which my ambition to milk a few more miles

has given way to a kinder day, when we drove in style, so it's

blow a kiss, goodnight gracie, time to set you free

but i'll just leave your mirror trappings, as my legacy

          add to theirs my generation, and the voice of my freedom

as i sing, in conclusion, when you're feeling grey

drop on down to the wreckers' round-up, and strip the years away

     old maps and ledgers, old cams and gears

     and chrome-plate headers i hadn’t seen in years

     all through this rubble, there still survive

     old rear-view mirrors, old rear-view lives

==============================================

© 2003 ryeside music (bmi)

a smoke ring flies past misty eyes the kind that say, look out, i'm wise i've been through guys like you before and gave till my heart could bleed no more

a touch of blues in fragrant hues, the air surrounding just the two of us, within the crowd alone refreshingly dulls my sense of right from wrong, oh

and she's mellow as mountain moonshine soft as the northern lights warm as a first-time newlywed in afterglow at night rita by candlelight, rita by candlelight dash me with rays of amber bright, lighten my soul tonight

where's her heart now, i can't see she looks about so aimlessly than catches my eye so charmingly and whispers my name, disarming me

no i don't think she's teasing now perhaps she's not forgotten how to trust, and share with confidence well give me the chance, i'll be quick to make amends, oh

'cause she's mellow as mountain moonshine soft as the northern lights warm as a first-time newlywed in afterglow at night rita by candlelight, rita by candlelight dash me with rays of amber bright, lighten my soul tonight

good to see you again, ruby brings to memory a friend who only flew my banner in fair weather dontcha think i deserved better

save your breath and your time, ruby got your fair share of mine back when we shook the rafters as one, taking love to laughter with none faking

where did it go, wo wo wo wo wo, was it greed or image how could you know, wo wo wo wo wo, that my line of scrimmage was hopelessly short of your goals, ruby

saw your picture in town, ruby on a poster surrounded by the perpetrators of my slamming are they staging your own shamming

would they make such an effort, to keep a journeyman down what defense did you offer, having been part of my sound

half the blame there is mine, ruby cause you know i'd be lying if i should say i'd pass on the same gamble with the rats to at last ramble

you’re running so hard you can’t keep up

burning your candle outside in

while beating a path from failing love –

got to make sure it never befalls you again

oh, stop awhile, put out your fears and smile

running just ain’t your style

darling, stop awhile

you’re driving yourself beyond your reach

losing more ground with every stride

the lesson is yours to learn, not teach

and someone you know is longing to serve as your guide

oh, stop awhile, give up this vain denial

would you be standing trial

just to stop awhile

rising so fast and falling stray

that’s how they play their game

watching you lose your mind that way

wouldn’t it be a crying shame, so

rid all your sorrows, rest your soul

love wasn’t meant to bring you down

and when it returns your way, behold

there i’ll be standing, waiting to squire you around

oh, stop awhile, show me a favoring smile

and on our secluded isle

we can stop awhile

rid all your sorrows, rest your soul

love wasn’t meant to bring you down

and when it returns your way, behold

there i’ll be standing, waiting to squire you around

oh, stop awhile, show me a favoring smile

and on our secluded isle

THE PROMONTORY (The Point Judith Suite)

on the undulant carousel
where the foaming white stallion is cantering, toward his bride
nosing forward impassively
to be grounded in patient obscurity, come the tide
from a phrase of divinity
to conjunctions of timeless reality
here i ride, here i ride, here i ride

and on the promontory fishermen are gathering
casting lines to barter for sustenance
knowing not what their wage is for idling away
such a momentary day
in the everlasting infinite immeasurable continuum of time

far above these frivolities
through the cross-winds beyond such idolatries
i will glide, i will glide, i will glide

la la, la-la, la, la-la la, la-la, la-la-la, la, la

aloft, one's reflection escapes one's shadow
and changes direction toward eternity
aloft, one's reflection escapes one's shadow
and changes direction toward eternity

aloft, one's reflection escapes one's shadow
and changes direction toward eternity
aloft, one's reflection escapes one's shadow
and changes direction toward eternity

a-loft, one's re-flec-tion es-capes one's sha-dow
and chan-ges di-rec-tion toward e-ter-ni-ty

=========================================

Copyright ©2004 Ryeside Music (BMI)

WHAT DID I DO

what did i do to deserve you

what did i do to deserve you

given my dreams, given my means

how did it seem i could serve you

what did i do to allure you

what did i say to assure you

through all the pain, can you explain

was it the way adored you

for you bent for me the sunlight

through every drop of rain

and true to all the years of hindsight

i knew at last i’d reached the rainbow’s end

then you filled my days with gladness

that warmed those once-eternal nights

and lost was any cause for sadness

by God above, to win your love

tell me angel true, what did i do

why did you choose to abide me

seeing the view from beside me

how would we find treasure divine

were you assigned here to guide me

for you season with the sunlight

every luscious drop of rain

and through these blessed years of free flight

we’ve shared a world of rainbows end to end

for you fill my days with gladness

that warm the coldest winter nights

and gone is any cause for sadness

by God above, to win your love

tell me angel true, what did i do

========================================

Copyright ©1999 Ryeside Music (BMI)

YOURS FOREVER MORE

With a mountain for a pulpit did Our Savior sound the call

To a gath’ring of the masses who had come to be enthralled

By the promise of a Kingdom where in peace they’d tend their herds

And they marveled at His wisdom taking comfort in these words:

For the homeless and the broken, for the meek and for the poor

For the guileless and the slandered, all who emnity endure

For the victims of injustice, I will hold open the door

To the shelter of My Kingdom, Yours forever more

And for countless generations has the call been tolled anew

To the souls of ev'ry nation our commitment to renew

Seeking Jesus’ endless mercy, may in joy we tend His herds

Growing stronger in His wisdom, as reflected in these words:

For the helpless, and the blemished, for the lonely, fraught with fear

For the thirsty and the hungered, who in My Name shed your tears

For the patient, eversuff'ring, I will rush you through the door

To the shelter of My Kingdom, Yours forever more

To the shelter of My Kingdom, Yours forever more

========================================================

Copyright ©2004 Ryeside Music (BMI)