Where did you go to church on Sunday? I went to the Gospel session at the Monterey Jazz Festival.
What's not to like about starting the morning with "Amazing Grace" by Igor and his jazz cowboys (in the red vest, of course).
and ending with "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" by the Titan Hot 7?
The traditional New Orleans "Second Line" umbrella people paraded by at appropriate intervals.
As a "word person" I'm always impressed by the in-your-face words of country gospel lyrics. The words leave little to the imagination, and trigger an emotional response as much as the music.
Here are a few tear-jerking lines:
I went back home my home was lonely
For my mother she was gone
All my brothers sisters crying
For the home so sad and alone
Undertaker please undertaker
Undertaker please drive slow
For that body you are hauling
Lord I hate to see her go
Will that circle be unbroken
By and by Lord by and by?
Are there any special lyrics that get to you?
3 comments:
A wonderful, touching post. I loved it, and, yes, there are many lyrics that touch me, especially, The Very Thought of You" I could add now, thanks for the memory.....xoxoxo
The lyrics that get most to me are from "Dancing at Whitsun", a song about the aftermath of two World Wars:
(Trad / Austin John Marshall)
It's fifty long springtimes since she was a bride
But still you may see her at each Whitsuntide
In a dress of white linen and ribbons of green
As green as her memories of loving
The feet that were nimble tread carefully now
As gentle a measure as age do allow
Through groves of white blossom by fields of young corn
Where once she was pledged to her true love
The fields they stand empty, the hedges grow free
No young men to tend them or pastures go see
They have gone where the forests of oak trees before
Have gone to be wasted in battle
Down from the green farmlands and from their loved ones
Marched husbands and brothers and fathers and sons
There's a fine roll of honour where the maypole once stood
And the ladies go dancing at Whitsun
There's a straight row of houses in these latter days
Are covering the downs where the sheep used to graze
There's a field of red poppies, a wreath from the Queen
But the ladies remember at Whitsun
That's a novel in itself, isn't it? I have chills. Thanks Ellen.
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