The following papers are two sections from material published on "Road Song" website during 1999-2000. An introductory section, titled "The Timeless Troubadour", has been previously offered as a free download 20 page e-book in June 2000.
The two sections offered here are :
(1) "Troubadour Trails" - which was written for a one-person performance to illustrate how a Troubadour might have presented songs to a village audience. It contains original lyrics from "Future Folk" collection, and narrative introductions such as the Troubadour might have offered.
(2)"Songs For The Long Road" - a collection of thirty-seven original song lyrics, by Betty Curtis,an ASCAP writer member, from "Future Folk" Music files. Any musician /performer who would like to work with the lyricist to create music for any of these lyrics may contact the author, via the following information.
E-MAILTROUBADOUR TRAILS
The following entries are from a narrative with lyrics, prepared for a one-person performance, as examples of how Troubadours often related stories about the lyrics they sang. We do not adhere to the sestina form so common to the Troubadour in 12th and 13th Century France. We do believe this should be a flexible form, and so have chosen very basic meter and form, easily adapted to special stylizing by various performers.
The Troubadour of the Knighthood period, was a wandering figure who often sang of Knighthood and Chivalry. They carried both inspiration and news from village to village.
Today we also have touring Troubadours. Like the old time Captain-Muse-with-the-News, they still keep us in touch with each other and our times. The following lyric is representative of a basic "Troubadour" attitude toward their art.
OLD WAYFARER
In a time of trouble, he walked the land,
guitar on his arm, heart in his hand.
He sang to the people, wherever he came,
and the message was always the same.
Love one another, and help where you can.
You don't have to yield to liars and cheats,
but give a good chance to woman and man,
children, and four-legged creatures you meet.
If any betray you, walk on your way.
They have a judge Upstairs.
Try to be faithful day by day,
and remember the lost in your prayers.
No one is sure where he's wandering now.
The world is his home, and always somehow,
wherever he is, is where he belongs.
Whereever he is, he's singing his song.
(Repeat Chorus)
(Original copyright 1996-"Future Folk" Music)
-3-
I'm what you know as a wandering singer. Me and my guitar have roamed this world for quite awhile. The history of those like me spans ages. We go back to drums and chants of jungle, forest, mountains, and deserts, of long, long ago.
David, the Psalmist shared our lifestyle, before he became King. Ours is an old story on the Long Road of Life. We played the lyre in Ancient Greece. In fact - as you probably know - that's where the word 'lyric' was first used for the words a singer sang, as they were accompanied on the lyre. You could say the lyre was an oldtime guitar.
Today, the guitar travels with many a modern day Troubadour wherever they wander. I'd like to tell you some stories shared along the way. About how Troubadour songs are born. I'm sure you'll recognize many of the times and places we sing about, because it's all about all of us, as we travel through Time.
I'll bet you never thought of yourself as a Time-Traveler ! Well - we all are - individually and as a people. We hand down stories from one generation to another. Sometimes our books, and other records, are lost - in storms - wars - cataclysms of various sort. But there's a thread of memory we carry in blood and bone - in our genes - and in our music, tales, and legends. Our music is one of our most lasting companions. From the lullabye a Mother sings to her babe, to the serenades of the lover to the beloved, to the adventurous epics our heroes live out, and the folk tunes of day to day life, Music links us in human fellowship.
The first song I'd like to sing for you describes the Troubadour lifestyle in simple form. It's about a part of life we all share - 'Seasons' - seasons of passing time - and the interior seasons of the soul. The Campfire song has been around a long time - and this is a favorite variety.
CAMPFIRE SONG
All I bring is this I sing,a song to soothe our wandering,
a faith that sees in flowing Time a reason and a rhyme.
Across the mountains,over the seas,
through the forests and wide prairies,
past city lights, and tropic isle,
Faith that warms like a lover's smile.
Oh gather 'round the old Campfire. Let us share a quiet hour.
Let us share a memory-time, and a reason in a rhyme.
There are many doubts and many wrongs,
that are not touched by a Pilgrim's songs,
but a Wayfarer's heart may find some ease,
in pausing shared and melodies.
Stars look down on Winter's night.
Birds fly home on Winter's flight.
A cold wind blows. The singer sings,
"Down the Road lies another Spring!"
Oh gather 'round the old Campfire. Let us share a quiet hour.
Let us share a memory-time, and a reason in a rhyme.
Another Spring, another morning.
Another Autumn, another warning.
Another Winter wind will blow.
Seeds will sleep 'neath Winter snow.
Brisk March winds will wake the seed.
April's rains will answer need.
May will bring forth fruit and flower.
Lovers stroll through Summer's hour.
Oh gather 'round the old Campfire. Let us share a quiet hour.
Let us share a memory-time, and a reason in a rhyme.
Autumn brings a golden glow.In sky and field, creatures know,
it's time to yield, prepare for cold,
and pay the cost in Autumn gold.
Winter has a steely gaze. Walks in silence through the days.
Yet prepares a wondrous thing -
the silent seed of another Spring.
Oh gather 'round the old Campfire.Let us share a quiet hour.
Let us share a memory-time, and a reason in a rhyme.
-5-
One year I found myself in a homeless shelter. This homeless shelter was an old, donated building ,which a group of young homeless people had renovated and turned into a shelter. When I first came there, there were only about twenty or so people there. It was unusually neat and clean.
I met an old man there - never did hear his name - everyone just called him "Old Man". He didn't seem to mind at all. In fact, it was said with a tone of respect. I guess those young people saw the 'Sage' in him. It was there.
He had an old guitar someone had thrown away, which he had restrung. He would sometimes play and sing for the group. He could sure make it talk. I'd never heard any of the songs he sang. I think they were his own creation. That's the way with Troubadours. They always have some of their own songs. I remember one of the songs he sang. It was real simple, but it said a lot.
That's characteristic of a real Troubadour. I knew he was trying to tell the group something about the Road, and what to expect in their travels. I believe it was the Old Man's philosophy of Life, learned in his travels. He knew those simple words might stick with those young folks, and become more and more important to them, as they covered time and miles.
I don't know if he had a name for the song, but I call it "Sage's Song". I think that's exactly what it is. I'd like to sing it for you now. I think you'll see what I mean.
I know that tomorrow the sun will rise.
I know there's a song on the wind.
I know there is something in children's eyes,
that helps us to hope again.
I know that the tides of the Sea will flow,
whether we sing or we cry.
I know there are some things we all can know,
and a time, and a place, we ask 'why'.
Chorus
The times and the seasons all have their reasons.
Memory counsels the heart.
Our lives are displayed, in a constant parade,
and we each play our own special part.
I know that Winters will follow the Summers.
I know there are Autumns and Springs.
Some are the buglers. Some are the drummers.
Some of us dance, and some sing.
I believe for each life, there's a beckoning Star,
amd a Guardian Angel stands by,
to guide us all Home, though we wander afar,
and there's a pattern of Purpose on High.
Chorus
The times and the seasons all have their reasons.
Memory counsels the heart.
Our lives are displayed, in a constant parade,
and we each play our own special part.
-7-
Late one afternoon, about a year ago, I was walking down a city street. The wind was brisk and cold. Clouds were gathering. You could tell a cold rain was on the way. I stepped into the entrance of a store already closed for the day. I could hear a strumming guitar. I scanned the area to see where it might be coming from. Maybe there was a cozy coffee house nearby, where I could rest awhile.
What I saw and heard that evening, so well expressed the Timeless Troubadour that I'll never forget it. It's like a freeze-frame symbol in my mind. It was a very current scene, but ancient in a way. It was as if dimensions had overlapped, and past, present, and future had all fused for a brief moment.
Huddled against a building near the street corner was a young man, maybe late 20s, with a guitar. He was dressed in casual, current mode. This was no ghost from long ago. Yet, there stood the very soul of the ancient Troubadour. At his feet was a heavy pot, which appeared to be made of cast iron. He had stopped to pick a few coins and a couple of bills from it. The wind was growing stronger, and might carry them away. Far too needed to risk that !
He did not present an appearance of dejection. More like a cheerful stoic. I watched as he scanned skies. A misting rain had started to blow through the scene. Then, I heard him strum what I knew were introductory notes of his last song for the day. I was curious as to what it would be. Sign-off songs are always special to Troubadours.
Just as he started the melody, street lights came on, giving a golden glow to gathering darkness. As he sang, I realized the song described the moment, as if created for that purpose. I sensed it was not a new creation though. It had a flavor of the Timeless. The elements of the song fit the current century very well. Yet, they could also fit past centuries.
It was such a hauntingly beautiful, simple song that I have recalled it in entirety, just from one hearing. Great Troubadours always have beautiful distilling art to their songs. I thought this was surely a song from some seasoned traveler. It was a couple of weeks before I finally located an old fellow who knew what the song was titled. When I heard it, I thought , "How simple - and how right." It's called "The Street Singer". I'd like to sing it for you now. I think you will hear what I heard in it - the Timeless.
THE STREET SINGER
Walking home in the rain, as the crowd strolls away.
A few coins are the gain, for songs of the day.
As darkness descends, the neon blinks on.
Streetlights are friends. The others are gone.
Guitar that is carried is mate of the soul.
They've long been married, in the Troubadour's role.
The flame in the heart, is where Music lies.
The Dream is the warmth in Troubadour eyes.
The Road wanders on. The Dream beckons far.
By day it's the Sun. By night it's the Star.
The River runs by. The Mountains remain.
The Singer knows why - walking home in the rain.
Guitar that is carried, is mate of the soul.
They've long been married, in the Troubadour's role.
The flame in the heart, is where Music lies.
The Dream is the warmth, in Troubadour eyes.
Original copyright 1997-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-9-
This next song is a song I often sing when many young people are in the audience. Once they know that Troubadours are not all retro, they tune-in to even the old Folk Songs. Surprisingly, some even say they're a lot like their favorite songs. This song shows them that I know the world they come to is quite different, but it too has rewards of fellowship. Just on a broader scale.
The jet comes in to land, through a cloudy L.A. morning.
I can see the sea and sand,and a distant rainbow forming.
There's the roaring of the engines, whining of the jets.
A plane lifts off - imagine! - it's full of people I've not met.
We pass with silver wings,through the highways of the sky.
Life's a tapestry of strings,weaving hellos and goodbyes.
There are faces at the windows, thoughts and beating hearts.
We travel like the wind blows,through a life of stops and starts.
There's a sometimes wistful longing, to forsake the flash and boom,
for an island of belonging, in our Earthly Mother's womb.
But we are Sons and Daughters, of a new-born New Day race.
We must sail on broader waters; the seas of Time and Space.
We travel day and night, over land and sea and sky.
Thinking is a flight, through how and when and why.
We have many friends. We find them everywhere.
The circle never ends, through land and sea and air.
We know that there's a Plan, that Life and Time will order,
and the Future is a land, just across Time's border.
Original copyright 1995-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-10-
JOY OF SIMPLE SONG
The Troubadour who wrote this lyric, must have done so to ease some frustration about their art. You will see why, when you hear it.
To a Troubadour, every song is a precious part of human history. Especially the songs that share our inner life. If people don't understand that, or feel that way about music, they may not appreciate Folk Music.
Imagine this singer sallied forth, like any good Knight, eager to share their songs of Life's Journey. Soon, they came to the walls of the Old Fort, known as "formula writing". Many such advocates had offered all sorts of ideas about how to get out of that 'pedestrian' form called 'Folk Music'. Some do think of it that way, you know.
The Troubadour's first reaction may have been hurt. Then came "Are you nuts !?" Then maybe they tried to explain that sometimes we're all 'pedestrians', but Folk Music was more about the Long Journey of the soul through Time.
Maybe that didn't seem to work either, so they decided they'd write a song about their art, that any Troubadour encountering the problem thereafter could use.
Many, if not all, Troubadour songs are created so people will have some way to express their feelings as they go along the Long Road. And the song can then pass on through the years.
Anyway - I suspect this song was written to express that frustration of not getting through to others just what they were trying to do, which was to express the "Joy Of Simple Song".
-11-
Yes - I know - you've told me -"We don't sing that way !"
Yes - I know - I've heard it - at least once every day.
Who made the rules that say a song, must be a certain way ?
A song should be what it must be, to say what it must say.
Chorus
Can't you hear the undertone, that runs through simple form ?
Can't you hear when love has blown a Dove from out the storm ?
Be glad to take a quiet pause, to hear the singer sing,
who does not court a great applause - just your listening.
Booming beat and straining voice, cannot say what is smooth.
A song should be a thing of choice, and master of a mood.
Flotsam, jetsam, tossing waves, are sounds of splintered tone.
I long for words that soothe and save, and leave us less 'alone'.
Smooth, the way the crooners knew. Soft as gentle wind.
Silky smooth, the music too, like satin to the skin.
Chorus
Listen to the murmured tone, that runs through simple form.
Can't you hear, when love has blown a Dove from out the storm ?
Be glad to take a quiet pause, to hear the singer sing,
who does not court a great applause - just your listening.
Original copyright 1998- "Future Folk" Music- Betty Curtis
-12-
Some songs serve to remind us of what we share as humans. Those type songs help us feel less alone in our travel through Life.They enhance our sense of fellowship, beyond isms and names that are sometimes divisive factors. Here's one to recall our togetherness.
Yesterday, we walked down by the River,
sat on the bank to watch the waters flow,
like all waters seem to flow forever,
like all dreamers come to watch them go.
A breeze blew through the evergreens above us.
Birds flew on their way amid the clouds.
We all need to know that someone loves us.
Sometimes we need to hear it said aloud.
Chorus
There, beside the flowing of Creation,
there, beside the ever-flowing tide,
we could sense a silent revelation -
We're all in the Stream -
there's no place to hide.
Yesterday, we heard a silent sermon,
watched the waters flow, and green trees grow,
felt the Seasons in their ever-turning,
heard the birds sing songs we still don't know.
We felt a newness welling up within -
felt our hearts lift on the wind and rise,
felt a stirring in our soul begin -
to join the birds there, soaring through the skies.
Chorus
There, amid the ancient flow of Being,
Sun poured down its gold upon the scene.
We knew the flow of Life that we were seeing,
carried us all together in its Stream.
...carried us all together in its Stream...
Original copyright 1999-"Future Folk" Music- Betty Curtis
-13-
Continuing with the 'Stream' metaphor, here's a song about our very current sharing. A good, off-time way to refresh our soul. Young folks really know how to do this ! A D J told me he'd sure like to have this one ready to play on weekends.
Radio-roamin' on a sunny day -lettin' the music flow past.
Singin' with songs the D Js play - a good way for makin' a splash !
Ridin' in the car - radio on - cruisin' the off-day scene.
Flowing with the music - movin' along -
makin' a splash in the Stream !
Chorus
The singer sings - we forget those things -
that cause an ache in the heart.
It's a nice sorta way to spend the day -
weavin' the sunshine art.
We still care, but we need fresh air -
a time to shine up our dreams -
with the radio on - singin' along -
splashin' the Stream !
Surfin' the day on waves of sound -
ridin' the singer's words -
sharin' the heartbeat's common ground -
flyin' away with the birds !
Listenin' to thoughts about someone's longin'
sharin' the ache in someone's dream-
fillin' the air with love and belongin'-
splashin' the Stream !
Chorus
The singer sings - we forget those things-
that cause an ache in the heart.
It's a nice sorta way to spend the day -
weavin' the sunshine art.
We still care, but we need fresh air -
a time to shine up our dreams -
with the radio on - singin' along -
splashin' the Stream !
Original copyright 1999-"Future Folk" Music- Betty Curtis
-14-
There are a lot of songs about legendary figures on the Road. Many Troubadours tell stories of meeting some mysterious old Wanderer, like the Kenny Rogers story about the "Gambler. Here's one that circulates and has that mystical hint to it. I don't know any name for it, so will invent a simple one of my own.
I was new to the Road, when I met him there.
His eyes were gentle, and quiet, and deep,
but they looked at you with a lonely stare,
as if he had never known sleep.
I asked him, "Oh Wayfaring Stranger,
if you've traveled this Road for long,
would you tell me about the dangers,
and where the turns are wrong"?
When he smiled, it was like a blessing,
and his answer a song, it seemed -
"Oh, the day is like a question,
and the night is like a stream,
but there is no place for resting,
and there is no time to dream".
We walked on together. The Road stretched ahead.
We pondered life, and love, and truth.
He was wise,and I listened to what he said,
while time, and the miles,trimmed youth.
His voice grew faint, and his pace grew slow.
When he vanished, I didn't know where.
But now, sometimes a breeze will blow,
and a whisper floats in the air.
It sounds like a Heavenly Blessing,
and a rushing, as if of wings -
"Oh there is an answer to questions.
There is a merging of streams,
and a place of peace for resting,
and a harbor for all our dreams."
Original copyright 1994-"Future Folk" Music- Betty Curtis
-15-
Here's a good song for modern-day Troubadours ! We all know about this route. We know how a good song, on the radio on the way to work, helps us start the day.
Again it's early morning.
The wind is on the hills.
We're doin' all those things again,
that help to pay the bills.
Study the eyes in the mirror.
Try to make them smile.
The city's gettin' nearer.
It's just another mile.
Chorus
Sounds on the radio tell us,
Time's still rollin' on.
Voice of the mornin' calls us,
into the day with a song.
Flowin' Brothers and Sisters,
sailin' the Highway Stream !
Dodgin' the flack and twisters,
to carry the seed of a dream !
We weave the day together !
We make the city hum !
We come home wearin' weather,
when the day is done.
Chorus
Clocks of Time are movin',
on a named and numbered flight.
We warm ourselves with lovin',
on the journey through the night.
Original copyright 1996-"Future Folk" Music- Betty Curtis
-16-
My next song is a tribute to an often misunderstood figure on the Long Road - the Noble Warrior. Such individuals often have to make the unpopular decision, for unpopular purposes. I don't refer to the firebrand radical, who acts to serve extreme ends for selfish reasons. I speak of the dignified, honorable 'Commander', whose decisions must often be based on a choice of the lesser of two evils. I had an old friend of that sort, and this is his story.
The coming of death was not sudden -
it was happening through the years -
in many ways that were hidden,
in many nights of tears.
Every Noble Warrior,
wears blame as well as praise.
Every mile that's forward,
leaves loss along the way.
Chorus
Noble Warriors do not complain.
They carry the glory, and bear the pain.
No medal of man can give them worth.
It is in their soul, from time of birth.
Bearing the load of losses.
Enduring the sorrow and pain.
A Warrior knows what the cost is -
in memories that remain.
A Noble Warrior knows,
not all are like their kind.
The sword brings many blows,
to the Warrior's heart and mind.
Chorus
A Noble Soul, will not complain,
whatever Life has in store.
They do what they must, though few have seen,
that no-one loves Peace more.
Original copyright 1999-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-17-
Most people seem to think of this next song as a Lady Troubadour song. I think anyone a bit seasoned by time and miles could sing it. It's really about some of the rewards of ageing. Even I can sing it !
I once was a blonde, then a brunette,
then I had red hair awhile.
All are like places that I once went,
now it's just Calico style.
One was like Springtime. One was like Summer.
One had the colors of Fall.
All were part happy. All were part bummer.
Now winter is coming to call.
Chorus
It's all in a mix, like old movie flicks,
like a tapestry's threads in a ball.
I feel sort of seasoned. There was a reason.
Calico - is best of them all !
Like a strawberry blonde, a sable brunette,
and a red-head who loves the frontier,
they all seem to me, to fit perfectly.
I'm glad it's a Calico year !
Now Winter may cover it all, like a lover,
with a touch of snow-white here and there,
but I've paid the cost, for a touch of the frost,
and it goes well with Calico hair.
Chorus
Now it's all in a mix, between and betwixt.
It suits a mysterious smile.
And it feels sort of free, like pieces of me.
I like this Calico style !
Original copyright 1998-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-18-
Rocks is rocks - rocks is rocks - my friend.
Don't matter much what color they come in -
black or white or red or blue or green,
or any old shade somewhere in between -
rocks is rocks - oh, rocks is rocks, my friend !
Rocks is rocks - oh Mister and Senor !
Ain't no need for rocks to start a war !
Rocks is rocks wherever they are found -
forest deep - mountain - or desert ground.
Rocks is rocks - oh, rocks is rocks, for sure -
rocks is rocks - oh Madam and Monsieur !
Chorus
Tumbled enough, some rocks start to shine !
After years of heat and pressure, some are quite a find !
Rocks will stand throughout the stormy night !
Some support the sailor's guiding light !
Rocks is rocks, whether high or low.
Rocks is rocks, in Springtime, or in snow.
Rocks can force a River to divide.
Rocks can guard the gull's nest from the Tide.
Rocks is rocks, oh stranger, and oh friend !
They can roll, but they can never bend.
Rocks is rocks, because that's what they are,
like a star's a star, because it is a star.
A rose is a rose, and a tree is just a tree.
Things can only be, what they were meant to be.
Pity the fool who ridicules and mocks.
Facts is facts - and rocks is rocks - is rocks.
Chorus
Tumbled enough, some rocks start to shine.
After years of heat and pressure, some are quite a find.
Rocks will stand throughout the stormy night !
Some support the sailor's guiding light.
Original copyright 1998-"Future Folk"Music-Betty Curtis
-19-
Here's a little secret about music - it's always traveling silently in the realm of pre-creation. It is like the air we breathe. "As the wind blows where it will..." It isn't until a musical artist gives it audible form that we hear it. What is Music ? That's the "Secret" .
It's written on wind, and nobody sees it -
but everyone hears it someway.
It's painted on waters, that Wintertime freezes,
and Springtime sets free every May.
It sings in the night, under the stars,
and whistles and whispers in shadows.
Like Doves, it comes home to roost in our hearts,
and runs like a child through the meadows.
Chorus
What is the Secret flowing along -
sensed, but never defined -
till somebody cares to weave it in song,
and pass it along to the mind ?
It lies by the hearth, in the glow of the fire.
It walks in the forest, and wades in the streams.
It looks out of our eyes, with Spirit's desire,
to live through our vision and dreams.
It travels the years undimmed by time -
uncaptured by any known art.
It hints in our music, teases in rhyme,
but it feels most at home in our heart.
Chorus
What is the Secret, flowing along -
sensed, but never defined -
till somebody cares to weave it in song -
and pass it along to the mind ?
Original copyright 1998-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-20-
I hope you've enjoyed our musical visit as much as I have. And I hope that your appreciation of the eternal nature of music to console and heal has been increased. It's one of our oldest companions on the Long Road. Now - as I've told you - sign-off songs are always important to a Troubadour. I'd liked to close with one of my favorites, which I think says so much about the value of communicative music.
In the Night, by the Poet's lamp,
the Soul writes out its song.
In the Night, in a wilderness camp,
the Singer sings along.
Through the flow of Change, Ages parade.
Stars look down, and fences fade.
The Soul will hear, with sensitive ear,
the message, and the Call,
to the Spirit within us all.
In the joy of Sunrise, children sing,
voices calm on the wind.
Song wells up, from an ancient Spring,
flowing from friend to friend.
When Eagles sing, and Doves are heard,
and the April wind blows clean,
the flame in the heart will softly burn.
Hills will shine, cool and green.
The Poet's lamp, will still glow on,
and Troubadours walk the Way,
carrying Spirit's Timeless Song,
through the Night, and through the Day.
The Poet's lamp will light the dark.
Song will flow, like the song of the lark.
Days will be lit, with a Sun of Peace,
and the best in us will be freed.
The best in us will be free !
Original copyright 1998-"Future Folk"Music-Betty Curtis
-21-
A COLLECTION OF ORIGINAL SONG LYRICS
by
Betty Curtis
"FUTURE FOLK" MUSIC
The Future Is Our Movable Frontier
The "Songs For The Long Road" Collection was written over a period of seven years. It contains almost 300 original lyrics, written by an ASCAP writer member.
I have tried to select a representative sampling in the following presentation. We cover a broad spectrum. We do not shun songs of faith and inspiration, nor do we shun nitty-gritty, face-the-issues songs. Sometimes we need to learn to say 'No', and we have songs for that. However, we do not believe that music is the place for offensive themes or language. We like simple meter and form, because it is most usable by all people, and is most adaptable to specialized styles of performers.
"Future Folk" specializes in the 'thoughtful' lyric, because we believe it is a form that answers our inner need to assimilate experience in a healthy way, and offers expression for our inner life, as well as outer events. We believe there is a face-the-issues (inner and outer) generation out there, who will appreciate such lyrics.
Musicians and/or performers who want to work with these lyrics to create music for them can contact the author via information below:
E-mail: futurefolkmusic@e-universe.com
-22-
CONTENTS
(24)Beach Of Time
(25)Mystic Wind
(26)Villager's Song
(27)Touching Hands
(28)Listening
(29)Ridin' The Wave
(30)Magic Moments
(31)Pulses
(32)Dream-Door
(33)Hiatus
(34)Moving Along
(35)By-and-By
(36)Dreams In Flight
(37)Sea Wind
(38)Climbing Up The Stairs
(39)How Are You Today ?
(40)Between The Lines
(41)Little Light Canoe
(42)Denver Snow
(43)Deja Vu
(44)Angel Of Waters
(45)Year's End
(46)Been Here Before
(47)Between The Crests
(48)Destiny's Wind
(49)I Still Remember
(50)Way Of The Desert
(51)Life's Casualties
(52)Autumn's Ark
(53)Carry On
(54)Bringing The Memories Home
(55)Kaleidescope
(56)Long Distance Love
(57)After The Parade
(58)Rising Sun And Evening Star
(59)Watching The Waves
(60)Circle Of Song
(61)Thought Starters
(62)Something To Think About
(63)Pericles And The Poet
(64)Decisions
(65)The Book Of Remember
Standing on the Beach of Time - gazing out to Sea.
Ages pass in flowing line -
Cycles of Eternity
Past and Future is always Now.
Cycle is known from beginning to end.
The Creator knows What, and teaches How-
the teaching flows on Cosmic Wind.
Chorus
We look out from the Beach of Time -
clouds sometimes get in the way.
Flash and boom of troubled times,
can make us blind,
and we may stray.
Living on the Beach of Time -
Sands and shells sometimes confuse.
Fishes swim. Sea-birds fly -
but humankind has sand in the shoes.
We hear a whisper in Ocean breeze.
We sense a Presence along the Beach.
We see Sunlight on the sparkling Sea.
And Stars at night -
all out of reach.
Chorus
Yet - moving along the Beach of Time -
holding hands, and sharing hearts -
we are part of a vast Design.
We are students of Holy Arts.
We are students of Holy Arts.
Original copyright 1997-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-24-
On a soft morning wind, comes an old memory -
dawn in the country, when I was a child -
a shack in a grove, mocking-bird glee,
orange blossoms - sweet and mild.
Loved ones I'd known since the frst cry I made.
Yes - we were poor in money and things -
but we had love - we had sun and shade -
bright winter stars, and soft summer rains.
Chorus
Oh - how distant it seems -
like some other world -
like the haze of a dream -
or a vision unfurled.
On a soft morning wind, floats the sound of a song -
of angels, and strangers, and lovers who meet;
of drifters who pass, and go wandering on,
to a land where true love sings its music - so sweet.
I see them marching - Procession through Time -
I hear the beautiful songs that they sing.
I hear the flowing of music and rhyme,
clear as a lark on a morning in Spring.
Chorus
Oh - I know it's still there,
riding the Wind,
down a Heavenly Stair -
to remind us again.
Original copyright 1996-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-25-
THE VILLAGER'S SONG
Oh, the Villager's Song floats on the wind.
The birds in the trees, they sing with him.
Children dance in the Village Square,
while the Villager's Song drifts in the air.
He walks the world, and he's seen it all,
from the cafes of Paris, to China's Wall.
The song he sings flows West and East,
and North and South-it's a song of Peace.
Chorus
La-la-la-la - let's sing it too -
wherever we go, whatever we do -
through the Global Village, let's sing along -
the happy words of the Villager's Song.
Oh, sing of your dreams, sing of your love.
Lift your voice to the skies above !
Sing out the Villager's sweet refrain !
Let it fall on the Earth like renewing rain.
Sing of tomorrow, and the promise we build.
Sing of the Earth, and her fertile fields.
Sing to every folk. We all belong,
to the Global Village, and the Villager's Song !
Chorus
La-la-la-la - let's sing it too -
wherever we go, whatever we do,
through the Global Village, let's sing along -
the happy words of the Villager's Song !
La-la-la-la - wherever we are -
wherever we go - near or far -
through the global Village let's sing along -
the happy Villager's Song !
La-la-la-la- La-la-la-la - La-la-la-la -
Original copyright 1995-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-26-
Every performer who gives benefit performances for charitable causes,or tragic events,could use a song like this.
I can't make a miracle today.
This is just a friendly hand along the way.
I can't stop the storm clouds. I can't stop the wars.
But we can still touch hands, mine and yours.
I don't have a miracle today. I don't have a magic word to say.
I believe that miracles can be,
and sometimes, even though it's hard to see,
a miracle might take a chance away -
to learn what we must learn - day by day.
Chorus
I don't have a miracle today.
Just a song to sing along the way.
Just some words to offer to remind,
there is purpose even in these times.
No I can't make a miracle today.
This is just a friendly hand along the way.
Sometimes a miracle is like a seed.
Sometimes small things serve to answer need.
Sometimes, simple faith can light the Way,
though we don't have a miracle today.
Even through the worst of troubled times,
we can still touch hands, yours and mine.
Like now, we share a moment here together.
Let's hold hands whatever be the weather.
Though storm clouds hover, and the troubles come,
we can face the days - one by one.
The miracle may be in learning how -
we can all touch hands, here and now.
Chorus
Though we don't have a miracle today.
We may have a message anyway.
If this song can help us to recall,
how much we need each other - one and all,
we can make a miracle today -
just by touching hands along the Way.
-just by touching hands along the Way.
Original copyright 1999-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis.
-27-
Sounds of the sea float in through the window.
Somewhere on the wind a music is drifting.
The call of a bird, comes soft from the meadow.
Sounds of the evening are quietly sifting.
A symphony flows on the cool evening air -
a merging of sounds not heard in the city.
Wind tinkles chimes at the door by my chair.
It all flows so gentle. It all seems so fitting.
Chorus
So many days we fret and we hurry,
down so many ways, at duty's insisting.
Through hours and streets, we do so much hearing,
day after day, and so little listening.
Evening cascades in the flowing I'm hearing.
Light of the day, is merging with dusk.
One by one stars are slowly appearing.
The scene is changing to sparkle and hush.
Some of it sounds, and some of it glistens.
I sense a Presence of more than I see.
Over known sounds, as I silently listen,
I sense a faint choir, singing jubilantly !
Chorus
So many days we fret and we hurry,
down so many ways, at duty's insisting.
Through hours and streets, we do so much hearing,
day after day - and so little listening.
Original copyright1996-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-28-
Ridin' the Wave - the Wave to Tomorrow !
Buddy patrol , ridin' the Wave !
Liftin' our hope out of the sorrow.
Lendin' a hand to lighten the day.
Sometimes somebody, under the water -
tossed by the weather, lost and afraid.
Give 'em a hand, Sister and Brother !
Help 'em to make it - ridin' the Wave !
Chorus
Sometimes the hollow !
Sometimes the crest !
Tryin' to follow - standin' the test !
Out of the storm clouds, into the sun !
Ridin' the Wave - wherever it runs !
Ridin' the Wave - wherever it runs !
Storms rock the water ! Wind blows the sand !
We gotta stay together, you know !
Ridin' the Wave, like a travelin' band -
We can't always see where it may go !
Ridin' the Wave, buddies and pals -
whatever the weather - whatever it brings !
Ridin' the Wave - the guys and the gals !
See how the Wave rolls ! Hear how it sings !
Chorus
Sometimes the hollow !
Sometimes the crest !
Tryin' to follow - standin' the test !
Out of the storm clouds, into the sun !
Ridin' the Wave - wherever it runs !
Ridin' the Wave - wherever it runs !
Original copyright 1998-"Future Folk"Music-Betty Curtis
-29-
Just across the room, Destiny may wait -
someone flowing through the 'greeting' tide -
someone just like you, guided there by Fate -
may be sitting quietly aside.
Just around the corner, the answer to a dream,
may be flowing down the crowded street -
flowing on a course, through the daily stream,
as unaware as you - that you must meet.
Chorus
We never know the time. We never know the place -
when - by Destiny's design, Dream and Dreamer face.
We never know the start - the christening event -
that sends two separate hearts, toward a meeting Heaven-Sent.
From the Heart of Heaven, through the Hand of Fate -
somewhere out there, Life's magic moments wait !
Just along the street, the answer to a prayer,
may be on the way toward you now.
Always watch and listen, with expectant care -
even though you don't know when or how.
Just across the room - somewhere down the street -
waiting at the office - moving in next door -
may wait a magic moment you are meant to meet -
like a wave that's rolling surely to the shore.
Chorus
We never know the time. We never know the place -
when , by Destiny's design - Dream and Dreamer face.
We never know the start - the christening event -
that sends two separate hearts, toward a meeting Heaven-Sent.
From the Heart of Heaven, through the Hand of Fate -
somewhere out there, Life's magic moments wait !
Original copyright 1998-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-30-
Deep and distant ! Far and high !
From the canyons - to the sky -
music soaring - flowing by -
to the canyons - from the sky !
From the valleys - to the hills -
where the mountain water spills -
blown across the window-sills -
to the valleys - from the hills !
Chorus
Next door - or down the street -
on the radio -
coming from T V - or the stereo
it's the rhythm of the times !
It's the soul sung out in rhymes !
Flowing door to door !
It's our Global People-Beat !
Swaying hips, and tapping feet !
Sometimes booming ! Sometimes sweet !
Like a surf on Planet Beach !
Whether Blackbird - whether Dove -
loud or soft - It's singing of -
Faith that reaches far above !
People pulses - linked by love !
Chorus
Next door - or down the street !
On the radio !
Coming from T V - or the stereo !
It's the rhythm of our times !
It's the soul sung out in rhyme !
Flowing door to door !
Land to land ! Heart to Heart !
Door to door !
Original copyright 1998-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-31-
In a mystic dream, I saw your face.
It was somewhere in an ancient place.
I don't recall just where or when.
I can't recall just how I knew.
I could not find the place again -
but I remember you.
We were dancing in a golden light.
The scene from the window , was starry night.
The tune was soft the musicians played.
There were lilies in a pool.
Others were there, but the faces fade -
I only remember you.
Chorus
The memory flows like a scented breeze,
through the misty Halls of Time -
like a message down the centuries,
it wanders through this rhyme.
I know you spoke, but I can't recall -
the words, or what they meant, at all.
I know you smiled in a tender way.
Your eyes were gentle too.
I could find no words to say.
But I knew that it was you.
Cymbals clanged. The strings sang out.
Dancers twirled, and whirled about.
You smiled at me. I touched your hand.
The dream dissolved and flew.
I tumbled back to this present land -
but I remember you.
Chorus
Somewhere now, in the Stream of Time -
beyond this present view -
is a secret door - we sometimes find -
and sometimes - wander through.
Original copyright 1995-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-32-
Don't ask me if I remember.
Don't ask me if I forget.
Time flows along like an unrolling reel,
and I can't stop to look back yet.
Don't ask me if I feel lonely.
Don't ask me if I feel sad.
There's both in the mix of years.
Someday I think we'll be glad.
Chorus
Storms on the far horizon.
Wind runs the Highway span.
Just try to keep your eyes on -
where dawn starts...
and sing - if you can
They say don't be afraid of the minute.
Don't lose your dream in the chase.
There's always some victory in it -
and strength for the trials we face.
Look to the blue of the day-sky.
Look to the stars - in the night.
Don't be afraid of the twilight -
just let your dreams take flight.
Chorus
How long, and how far, do we wander ?
Is there a map of the Way ?
They say, between 'over' and 'under' -
the world rolls along - day by day.
Original copyright1997 "Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-33-
Moving along on the street with no name,
to the town that everyone knows -
with strangers and friends - the wind and the rain -
where the River of Wayfarers flows.
Playing a tune on the the strings of the heart,
singing the song of the soul -
hearing the call of the Troubadour's art -
where the Road to Tomorrow rolls.
Chorus
Strangers and lovers meet on the Way.
Kindness, and cunning, are part of the crowd.
Unseen - above us - are secrets at play -
and Mystery veiled in the clouds.
Stars are the signposts of heavenly Skyways.
Moon is a lamp for the night.
Rain sometimes washes the towns and the highways -
and sunshine dries them with Light.
Moving along - down the Road with no turning -
straight through the fields of Time.
Moving along - on the Spirit's long Journey -
singing our story in music and rhyme.
Chorus
Strangers and lovers meet on the Way.
Kindness, and cunning, are part of the crowd.
Unseen - above us - are wonders at play -
and Mystery veiled in the clouds.
Original copyright 1997-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-34-
I could feel blue. What good would it do ?
Just have to go on and try.
Do what I can. Be what I am.
It'll be better - by-and-by.
Sometimes it's rain. Sometimes it's pain.
Sometimes, there's clouds in the sky.
Then comes a morn - sunny and warm.
It gets better - by-and-by.
Chorus
Up over the clouds, the sky is clear.
Sun and Stars still shine.
Whatever the cause behind the tear,
it gets better - in time.
I could complain. It won't stop the rain.
It won't ease the ache in the heart.
Days come and go - so does the show -
and all of us play our part.
We're not all the Princess. We're not all the Prince.
We're mostly average gal and guy.
The villain's role, leaves a scar on the soul -
but it gets better - by-and-by.
Chorus
The Road wanders on,
through shadow and shine.
Through the Night, to the Dawn -
we're travelers in Time.
I could feel blue. I guess you could too.
But it always gets better - by-and-by.
Original copyright 1998-"Future Folk" Music- Betty Curtis
-35-
In the dusk of a summer evening,
seated in the old porch swing,
you could hear a gentle breathing,
whisper of a passing wing -
nothing you could see in the evening light -
just another dream in flight.
Jimmy sitting under the palm tree,
staring at the evening star.
Lips were moving silently,
eyes were seeing far.
He was speaking to the far starlight -
there goes another dream in flight.
Chorus
They dance around like butterflies.
They whistle in the wind.
They knock at the heart on quiet nights,
trying to get in.
When the sun rises on the River -
when a fish leaps in a stream -
when Cupid fills his quiver -
when the Moon sends down her beam -
they weave an arrow of quicksilver light -
sending out another dream in flight.
Weave you a silken picture,
finer than the mountain air,
dip it in a fiery mixture -
faith, and love, and dare -
hold it in your heart, and keep it bright.
You may catch a dream in flight !
Chorus
They dance around like butterflies.
They whistle in the wind.
They knock at the heart on quiet nights,
trying to get in !
Original copyright 1996-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-36-
We feel a touch, and hear a call,
that triggers an ageless emotion,
borne like a memory through Time's Hall -
when the wind blows from the Ocean.
A swirling Presence we cannot see,
dances across the sky,
stirring the waves of the restless Sea.
We feel it drifting by.
Chorus
It always sings in the seeking soul.
It sighs in the waiting heart,
and whispers a Mystery.
Ancient secrets that cannot be told,
whisper with mystic art,
when the wind blows from the Sea.
Ages have felt it. Caesar paused,
in the dusk of a distant eve,
to sense the passage, and ponder the cause,
when the wind blew from the Sea.
Once, a carpenter's Son stood still,
in a distant century,
as wind blew across a lonely hill,
from the Sea of Galilee.
Chorus
It always sings in the seeking soul.
It sighs in the waiting heart,
and whispers a Mystery.
Ancient secrets that cannot be told,
whisper with mystic art,
when the wind blows from the Sea.
Original copyright 1996-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-37-
It's five o'clock in the morning.
Shadows are on the wall.
A little light is dawning.
It shimmers in the hall.
I know in fields above,
stars are everywhere.
I think about hope and love -
climbing up the stairs.
In the silence I hear ticking.
Little things we've made.
Noises of the city,
seem to flow and fade.
The lonely drummer is drumming.
The pulse beats in my ear.
Awakening is humming -
climbing up the stairs.
Sun, and Sea, and Starlight -
Wind,that enfolds us all-
and memory of the farlight,
is running through the hall !
Like a child in fields of summer,
chasing butterflies through the air,
I follow the lonely drummer,
climbing up the stairs.
Original copyright 1998-"Future Folk"Music-Betty Curtis
-38-
How are you today ? Do you think of me ?
Don't know why I ask.
Just curiosity.
Are you ever blue - thinking of the past ?
Times that we once knew ?
Don't know why I ask.
I'm just feeling strange. Lost in Time's review.
Wandering through change.
Wondering - how are you ?
Chorus
I know it makes no difference,
to voice this to the air.
It doesn't bridge the distance.
It can't reach you - out there.
How do you spend your nights ? I hope, not all alone.
Do you think of me,
and wonder where I roam ?
Are all your Holidays warm with festive air ?
Somewhere - inside and silent -
does memory linger there ?
Do you think of me ? The love that we once knew ?
Do you ask the air -
"Honey, how are you "?
Chorus
Who can say if traces,
through all this time apart,
might find their way to places,
within a loved one's heart?
Do you hear me say -
"How are you today "?
Original copyright 1996-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-39-
This was written for a friend, who wanted to say it to someone. I suspect most of us could use this one at times.
Today, I got a letter from you - a letter saying goodbye.
It was a real nice letter it's true.Didn't even make me cry.
Said you needed some time,to think and sort out your head.
You wished me well - would keep me in mind -
that's what the writing said.
Chorus
Guess what, Baby, you'll be surprised !
I say thanks for the time !
I got special kind of eyes.They can read between lines!
It was a real nice letter from you -nice the way it was said.
That is - the first time I read it through.
Second time, here's how it read.
"Now that I've worked on you for awhile,I'll go wait for rain.
Drift away till you lose your smile,then come yankin' your chain.
You spend awhile thinking it through,deep in tormented mind -
weary and lost, and feeling blue,
Then I'll come tuggin' your line !"
Chorus
Guess what,Baby !You'll be surprised !
I say thanks for the time.
I got special kind of eyes.They can read between lines.
It was a real smart letter from you-to set me up on the shelf,
but, I tell you this, and I know it's true -
it was written by the Devil himself !
I got better things to do -
than sit on the shelf and whine !
Don't need folks who can't speak true, pullin' on my line!
Bye-bye,Baby,don't expect sighs.
Thanks for the warning in time !
And thanks to the Lord, Who gave me eyes -
able to read between lines !
Original copyright 1999-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-40-
I wanted to remember, rowing up the Stream.
I wanted to remember, the faces and the dream.
I wanted to recall all the places on the Way,
and every little moment that turned into Yesterday.
Slowly, they all mingled - hopes and memories.
Slowly, they all fluttered by, like petals on a breeze.
Then, one day I realized they made me ever-new -
and I was on the Ocean, in a little, light canoe.
Chorus
I saw the Ocean Liners, on horizon far away.
I saw the tropic islands, pass by, day by day.
The Seabirds and the Dolphins,
were companions, tried and true.
And I just kept on paddlin'
my little , light canoe.
Sometimes the waves are scarey, and storm clouds fill the sky.
Sometimes, the waves are calm, and Seabirds ride the tide.
I can't hold all the memory, it has grown too vast.
Like the Sea I sail on, I know none is the last.
I wanted to remember all the colors of the Sea.
Then, with time I learned - I am the memory.
My soul is now the essence of all the world I knew.
I sail an endless Ocean, in my little, light canoe.
Chorus
I see the Ocean Liners, on horizon far away.
I see the tropic islands - pass by, day by day.
The Seabirds and the Dolphins,
are companions tried and true,
And I just keep on paddlin' -
my little, light canoe.
oiginal copyright 1998-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-41-
The Rockies seemed to call me. I left the beach behind.
Like a newly landed stranger, wandering through Time,
an old poetic longing,murmured in my soul.
That's how I came to be there, in a windy Denver snow.
Someone I remembered - a love that I once knew.
He left the California beach. The Rockies called him too.
I never quite forgot him - never will, I know.
Was that the voice that called me,to that night in Denver snow?
Chorus
Denver snow, blowing in the wind,
spoke of old, old memories, calling me again.
I saw his eyes in snowflakes. The flutter was his smile.
In my heart there was a longing,
to linger there awhile.
Funny, how all lovers dare pursue their fleeting dreams,
wandering through a cold world where, nothing's as it seems.
So there, in Denver Airport,I watched the cold wind blow,
as if expecting someone blown in by Denver snow.
I don't know how it happened. I only know it's true.
The figure stood before me, all bundled up in blue.
I could only see the smile, and the laughing eyes I know,
but nothing could disguise that love from long ago -
blown in by Denver snow !
Chorus
Denver snow - a cold and windy thing,
brought my soul a warmth - made my sad heart sing !
I believe that cold, white wind, was a flight from up Above,
that blew us there through Denver snow -to find a long lost love,
on wings of Denver snow -
- wings of Denver snow -
Original copyright 1997-"Future Folk"Music-Betty Curtis
-42-
There was a cloud across the moon tonight.
Wind blew from another field of Time.
Wings ascended in a silent flight.
A chiming rippled through the listening mind.
Light was poised upon the crest of years,
and trembled in the soul, before it flew.
We cannot hold it in the crystal sphere -
of memory - we call it 'deja vu'.
Chorus
Deja Vu - a summoning -
like a song the angels sing,
quietly comes, and swiftly goes.
Only the wisest mystic knows,
the truth of deja vu.
A face that passes swiftly in the crowd -
the voice we almost hear, but cannot name -
the timeless greeting never said aloud,
a quickening, that glows like gentle flame...
It is a speech that never comes as sound -
a flash of swift awareness breaking through -
and yet, when sought, it never can be found -
that's the wonder we call 'deja vu'.
Chorus
Deja Vu - a summoning -
like a song the angels sing,
quietly comes, and swiftly goes.
Only the wisest mystic know,
the truth of 'deja vu'.
Original copyright 1995-"Future Folk" Music- Betty Curtis
-43-
The Angel of Waters moves on the Sea,
stirring Sea-Winds with mighty wings,
frothing waves, and tenderly,
calming the Sea, till its colors sing.
The Angel of Waters, moves like a Hand,
conducting Creation's Symphony,
where tidal kisses touch the land,
and Sea-Birds wander free.
Chorus
Majestic Presence, Shepherd of Seas,
whose powerful wings may arise in storm,
sweeping the clouds, or delicately -
keeping a tropic island warm.
The Angel of Waters, can quietly sigh,
on a summer night 'neath the Moon,
where trade winds blow, and white gulls fly,
and waters sleep in a blue lagoon.
Swift as lightning ! Older than Time !
Newer than love in the heart of youth -
governed by none but the laws Divine,
that shape our lives with Ageless Truth.
Chorus
The Angel of Waters, with Mothering care,
cradles the creatures of the deep,
and flows through Time on whispering air,
to soothe the fevered with refreshing sleep.
Original copyright 1997-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-44-
We've come to the end of another year.
There's a trace of a smile, and a trace of a tear.
The 'Play's' cast has gathered , memory's guests,
to forgive all the errors, and remember the best.
Later tonight, when we each sit alone,
we'll review the flight of another year flown.
The glow of the lamp, like the light of the heart,
will warm the shadows and gloom.
With a touch of nostalgia, memories start,
to flow - like the light - through the room.
Chorus
We cannot call back, or relive the times,
but we can embroider the threads through the soul,
to wear like bright ribbons, gracefully twined,
fashions of Spirit - wherever we go.
Yes,we've come to the end of another year.
We're wondering where the path leads from here.
The door to tomorrow is opening slow.
A faint light is seen, beginning to glow.
Soon, the Procession will continue it's way,
into a New Year - and another new day.
Some of our dear ones have climbed up the Stair,
and are watching the passage from up Above.
Though we can't see them, yet they are there.
Someway - we're all linked by Love.
Chorus
We cannot call back or relive the times,
but we can embroider the threads through the soul,
to wear like bright ribbons, gracefully twined,
fashions of Spirit, wherever we go.
Original copyright 1997-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-45-
BEEN HERE BEFORE
Are you waiting for tears? Well-you won't see them.
I've learned through years,they don't make changes.
Do you want to see shame? Well - here's the score -
You wear the blame !
I've been here before.
Are you waiting to see the face of a'fool'?
Do you think it's me? Well-I think it's you.
So now you know - I don't 'fool' anymore.
You stand mighty low.
I've been here before.
Chorus
People who like to play mind-games,
are kids who grow older, but never grow up.
Their's is a life of shadow- charades.
And they end up holding an empty cup.
Are you waiting for sorrow in somebody's eyes,
because you must borrow your feelings from lies?
Well - I can't supply your 'soul' anymore.
You can't even cry.
I've been here before.
All I can bring is this sad little song.
It's not the thing to help you along.
Your fun's ridicule,and you always want more.
Well - I'm not your 'fool'.
I've been here before.
Chorus
So drink from your cup, and see if it soothes.
It's really quite shallow,couldn't hold much.
Play with your mind,and the maze of its grooves.
See if you find there a meaningful touch.
Your motives and methods are really quite poor,
but I'm alright, Baby -
I've been here before.
Original copyright 1997-"Future Folk"Music-Betty Curtis
-46-
Why does it feel like the middle of winter,
when it's only the first week of June?
Why does the light seem chilly and brittle ?
Why do I hear such a wistful tune ?
Trees seem glazed. Leaves like metal.
Surely they must clink in the wind.
Everything seems to be fading a little.
It's all growing distant and dim.
Chorus
Ah - but I know nothing's fading away.
It's just the pull of tomorrow - today.
Part of me goes. Part of me stays.
It's just the hollow - between the Crests of the Waves.
Sounds of the highway seem to come from afar.
Not just a stroll down a neighborhood street.
It all seems as distant as some lonely Star.
Hours of the day are phantom and fleet.
I follow routine, like a path through a wilderness,
listen for songbirds, and sounds of the Stream.
Music comes through, with the old touch of tenderness,
cradling the'babe'- tomorrow's bright dream.
Chorus
Ah - but I know nothing's fading away.
It's just the pull of tomorrow - today.
Part of me goes. Part of me stays.
It's just the hollow - between the Crests of the Waves.
Original copyright 1998-"Future Folk"Music-Betty Curtis
-47-
Who knows what's coming on Destiny's Wind ?
Maybe a stranger. Maybe a friend.
Maybe a danger - or a dream overdue.
Who knows what Destiny's bringing to you ?
Who knows where Destiny's Wind is going ?
Who knows what Destiny's Wind has in store ?
Sometimes it comes like a cold wind blowing.
Sometimes it brings a prize to your door.
Chorus
Somewhere Upstairs, the Keeper of Causes,
looks at the list, and tallies the score.
The Wind of Destiny, quietly pauses,
till sent on its mission once more.
How will we weather Destiny's Wind ?
If it be foe - or if it be friend ?
Whether it moans - or whether it sings,
How will we handle what Destiny brings ?
Who knows what's coming on Destiny's Wind ?
Who knows what's waiting far down the Road ?
Who knows the Causes ? Who sees the End ?
Who can help us carry the load ?
Chorus
Somewhere Upstairs, the Guide of the Way -
is waiting for us to look up and ask,
to have strength for the night, and faith for the day -
to meet Destiny's Wind - up to the task.
Original copyright 1998-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-48-
I still remember your love, when I was down and out-
when my virtues were only a whisper,
and my flaws were all at a shout.
I won't forget how you smiled through the mess I was in.
You quietly calmed me and taught me I had a friend.
I'll be remembering - over and over again.
There's no greater treasure in this fickle world -
than one, good, hard-times friend.
I won't forget, whatever the future may bring-
on plateaus of peace, or fields of blossoming Spring -
if I live in a mansion, or a quaint little cottage,alone -
if I run in fields where poppies and daffodils grow -
if I soar through the sky, or stumble among the stones -
when these days are only a memory of long-long ago -
I'll be remembering over - and over again -
there's no greater treasure in this fickle world -
than one, good, hard-times friend.
I still remember, you stood with me through the rain.
I know you faithfully carried part of my pain.
I still remember all you endured to stand by,
like a pillar of Truth, holding up my storm-ridden sky.
I'll be remembering - over - and over again-
there's no greater treasure in this fickle world
than one, good, hard-times friend.
Original copyright 1998-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-49-
Off in the distance a coyote is wailing.
Wind blows a tumbleweed down the road.
Moonlight is dim, clouds are veiling.
Light lies in patches. Earth shrugs her load.
A tremor runs free on the desert floor.
Everything feels it. Everything waits.
Everything wonders - will there be more ?
Will the desert lie still, or open its gates ?
Chorus
To live on the brink, is the way of the desert.
Life depends on a drink, and a place in the shade.
Sometimes the cool of morning is pleasant.
Sometimes in the evening, troubles can fade.
The rest of the time, it's the sand and the sky -
and desert wayfarers wandering by.
In the light and the heat, and the cloudless sky,
where the sun glows hotter, and higher,
quail have the sage,the hawk, he can fly.
The rest of us live in the light and the fire.
Wind of the desert can whirl like a dancer,
and sing like a crooner, when evening is still.
There's always more questions than there are answers,
but we still ask them, and we always will.
Chorus
To live on the brink is a way of the desert.
Life depends on a drink, and a place in the shade.
Sometimes the cool of morning is pleasant.
Sometimes in the evening troubles can fade.
The rest of the time, it's the sand and the sky,
and desert wayfarers wandering by.
Original copyright 1998-"Future Folk"Music- Betty Curtis
-50-
When we can't believe, and we just can't see,
and we don't know where we're going,
it's a long, long Road, with a heavy load,
and a troubled wind is blowing.
When we feel like stone, and we're all alone,
and the shadows gather close,
we don't need blame, and we don't need shame,
it's love we need the most.
Chorus
I have seen, and I believe,
Someone Upstairs knows when we grieve,
knows when we're lost - when we're deceived,
and understand Life's casualties -
and understands Life's casualties.
We're left our space, our private place,
to decide what we will choose.
It's sure no fun, but when it's done -
we've learned a lot from the blues.
When a friend passes by, with a saddened eye,
we're able to understand.
Because we've known the path they're on,
we can offer a helping hand.
Chorus
No demand - just a helping hand,
to let them know we understand.
Someone Upstairs cares and sees -
and understands Life's casualties -
and understands Life's casualties.
Original copyright 1997-"Future Folk"Music-Betty Curtis
-51-
Leaves of Autumn fall -
a rain of brilliant hue.
Delicate and small,
seeds are falling too.
Covered with the leaves,
hidden from the ice,
the Ark of Autumn sleeps,
through Winter days and nights.
Chorus
A blanket of white snow,
shields them from the wind,
till Springtime breezes blow,
to summon them again.
Through the Winter chill,
secretly they rest-
delicate and still,
in their hidden nest.
When the Winter snows-
feel the warming Ray,
snow-water starts to flow,
some early Springtime day.
Then the Sun grows strong.
Then the young birds' call,
moves like flowing song,
through the forest hall.
Chorus
The seed will slowly waken,
reach downward with its root.
The shell is slowly shaken,
by the Sunward shoot -
and it will then unfurl,
to blossom in the world.
Original copyright 1998-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-52-
Carry on. Carry on.
Though dark and troubled be the Way -
carry on. Carry on.
Carry Faith to a better day.
Carry on. Carry on.
Carry remembrance of love you've known.
Carry on. Carry on.
Follow the way the Dove has flown.
Chorus
When the Eagle flies through the starry skies -
though many wander, and few are true,
hold in your heart Faith's flame in the dark,
and carry the memory through.
Carry on. Carry on.
All you hold dear is a gift for Tomorrow.
Carry on. Carry on.
Carry Love, for the healing of sorrow.
Carry on. Carry on.
Others will join in Faith's Procession.
Carry on. Carry on.
Carry the Light, like a gentle blessing.
Chorus
If you could not stay, but must be on your Way,
like a wandering vagabond -
what would you take, for the Future's sake ?
What would you carry on ?
What would you carry on ?
Original copyright 1996-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-53-
It's dusk, and the day is slipping away.
Soon, the night will find me alone.
It's one of those places where Time has a way,
for bringing the memories home.
It's a season of mind, different this time,
less filled with longing and sorrow.
Less looking back to the country behind.
More looking ahead to tomorrow.
Chorus
Mellowing years have dried all the tears.
Living has colored the passage,
with a golden glow that softens the years,
and brings a whispering message.
I'm not feeling blue. It's a quiet review,
losses and victories known.
It's a bit like old lovers in sweet rendezvous,
bringing the memories home.
It's a warm reminisce - a sweet lover's kiss.
I know I'm not really alone.
The day gives way to a lavender mist -
bringing the memories home.
Chorus
Mellowing years have dried all the tears.
Living has colored the passage -
with a golden glow that softens the years,
and brings a whispering message.
Original copyright 1996-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-54-
Somebody tipped the kaleidescope !
Patterns we knew are scattered;
drift in the Age's wind, and float -
on a stream of spacial water.
Flash of a star spins through the night-
sprinkles a sparkle of distant trail.
Colors are shadowed - black and white -
viewed from the beach like a passing sail.
Chorus
It's only a moment in the Cosmic Sea.
It's only Creation - rearranging.
It's only a dance in Eternity.
Patterns are always changing.
Pieces are forming, magnetized,
around a Center we cannot see.
Earth and Sea and Wind and Skies -
are slowly forming what yet will be.
Flow with the moment! This is the Ride!
Hang on to Faith, and hang on to Hope!
It's just a changing color slide !
Somebody tipped the kaleidescope !
Chorus
It's only a moment in the Cosmic Sea !
It's only Creation rearranging !
It's only a dance in Eternity !
Patterns are always changing !
Original copyright 1995-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-55-
November has painted the trees white again.
October wore gold for awhile.
In September the green was beginning to thin.
But August kept most of its style.
I've traveled each day through hours of time.
I've traveled in step with the weeks.
Nights were embroidered with memory's vine.
The months had their valleys and peaks.
Chorus
As the years roll away, I recall every day,
whether sunny or cloudy above,
the warmth of your smile, in memory's file,
and give thanks for your long distance love.
July was the usual fireworks and beach.
June was a bell on the wind.
May wore her taffeta, emerald and peach.
In April, it showered again.
March was despondent, and rowdy, by turns,
just as it usually is.
February froze to cold unconcern,
what the New Year had promised to kiss.
Chorus
Another year's almost gone, and we're traveling on.
December's reminding me of -
the treasure I hold - both new and old-
your long lasting, long distance love.
Original copyright 1995-"Future Folk"Music-Betty Curtis
-56-
It's dark along the avenue.
Thunder mumbles in the clouds.
Wind blows city residue,
left by the vanished crowds.
Canyons of the city brood,
as cold invades the warm.
Lightning and its drums intrude -
advancing with the storm.
Chorus
Festivities are over.
The parade has passed away.
The joyous crowd has scattered.
Lone wanderers remain.
Traffic lights flash faithfully,
though few the cars that pass.
The city's growing empty -
of audience and cast.
Still - there's a haunting music -
a ghost of fading song,
as if the wind confuses,
and sound still lingers on,
like a time-warped stranger -
drifting down the street -
who senses mystic changes,
where crossed dimensions meet.
Chorus
Festivities are over.
Yet - moving through the air-
in the aura of a cold wind,
we're swept away somewhere -
where parades become Processions -
beyond the realm of Time -
and Timelessness possesses -
the country of the mind.
Original copyright 1997-"Future Folk" Music- Betty Curtis
-57-
Meetings and separations are not always self-determined. We turn to our Spiritual Faith to reinforce a sense of Inclusion when apart. At times we may use an external, visible symbol to remind us of a more inclusive field in which we all move. This lyric is about such symbols.Written for a young Mother - in a bit of 'net-talk'.
Every weekend morning,when the cartoons start to run,
I go out on the porch,to watch the rising sun.
Think about you.Wonder if you are watching it too.
The kids are cartoon watching. Paper is ready to read.
Coffee cup is in my hand, and I'm feeling the same old need-
to see you across the table. Hear your voice in the room.
Nothing else seems able to lift me out of the gloom.
Chorus
Rising sun, and evening star, signposts in the sky.
They shine on, wherever we are.
One for the day. One for the night.
Watching them I don't feel so blue.
They're my click-on link to you. You don't seem so far.
I know you are watching too -
rising sun and evening star.
Air is fresh with morning. Grass is wet with dew.
Birds have started their songing. I'm here thinking of you.
Feeling blue. Wonder if you -
are missing me too.
Sometimes in the evening - watching the evening star-
like we always used to do -
it has a way of relieving. You don't seem so far.
It's my little link to you.
I know you are watching it too.
Rising sun and evening star -
they shine down , wherever we are.
I know you - are watching them too -
rising sun and evening star.
(Repeat Chorus)
-58-
Original copyright 1998-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
(Old Troubadours would have called this a 'serena'.)
Sand is damp and cool to the feet.
Sun is low in the West.
I drift like a Wanderer on the Beach,
mind in search of rest.
Can't fly like the Birds.
Can't swim like the Dolphin.
Fresh out of words.
Don't feel like talking.
I stand on the Shore. Thought takes flight.
Time is no more. Soul is light.
I gaze out to Sea, to horizon's end -
watching the Waves roll in.
There's always a place where they begin.
Over and over, the Waves roll in.
The Waves roll in.
The Waves roll in.
Dusk descends like a velvet curtain.
Gulls have flown to a place of rest.
The Beach grows silent and deserted.
Sun sinks in the West.
Soon,the Moon and Stars shine through.
Soon, there comes a whispering Wind.
Creatures grow silent - as I do too.
Watching the Waves roll in.
Over and over and over again -
the Waves roll in.
The Waves roll in.
Original copyright 1999-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-59-
In the Night, on the Beach, there's a Circle of Song.
The music flows sweet, wafted along.
Voices in harmony, drift on the Wind,
gathering hearts of gathering friends.
Gulls are at rest.
Tides calmly flow,
to the Shore's waiting breast,
in the Campfire's glow.
Glow of the Campfire, reflects on the sand.
Stars in the sky, shine down on the Band.
In the Night, on the Beach, there's a Circle of Song.
The sweet sounds reach, through the Night to the Dawn.
Surf sings along.
Ocean breeze blows.
Through the Circle of Song,
sweet harmony flows.
Through the Circle of Song,
sweet harmony flows.
Original copyright 1997-"Future Folk" Music-Betty Curtis
-60-
We face a rapidly changing world today. Sometimes we feel uncertain about the future. The Future is always our "Movable Frontier". The following is part of a true story of a Huguenot couple, who lived in rapidly changing times also. In 1652 they came to the (then) New World. They had six sons, and helped build the "New World". They moved into their uncertain future, and worked to make it a 'new beginning'. This is what we will do also, each bringing our special gift.
It's night. You're standing alone on the deck of an old Dutch ship. Others are sleeping. You couldn't sleep, so you've come out of the crowded cabin for some fresh air. And for some time alone with your thoughts. It's quiet, except for creaking, rocking, and the sound of slapping waves. You hear all these keenly.
You're mid-ocean. No land in sight in any direction. You don't dare think of how minimal the support of this old ship is. You do think it's like being in a vacuum between Past and Future. You've made your choice. Where you are now is out of your hands. You run through a mental album of family and friends, reduced by confiscation of property, and long threat of hostility. Your once familiar world is no more. You can't go back. You don't really know what you're moving toward. You can only accept the results of your choice. You must turn face forward, toward the new horizon, and follow the thread of a meager plan.
So - you turn and return to the crowded cabin, having gathered yourself in resolve to follow the only meager plan you can have - colonize. Your wife, who has accepted the uncertainties, even as you have, is sleeping quietly. You know she has the courage to be a true help-mate.You think you will name your sons after those other colonizers - Abraham - Jacob - Isaac.
What the early settlers of this country did, called for bravery of a quiet, enduring sort, and character of high order. In some ways, it was more daring than colonizing the moon would be today. There was no technology to keep track of your journey, or send help if needed. There was no hero's send-off, or welcome. No glory. And no security, but Faith and endurance. It took great courage, and great Faith.
Talk about "Faith of our Fathers" ! This is what that means !
Sometimes we encounter people who belittle artists, writers, poets, and musicians, as dreamers, making no real contribution to Life. Such judgements overlook the value of cultural contributions. There are radicals on both ends of this, sometimes what is called an 'art form' is only iconclastic display. This is not the constructive type culture to which we here refer.
Cultural contributions are very important for motivation, and a finer sense of values. They are not all of Life, nor do they supply all needs. But they have their place. We miss much that makes our life more meaningful, if we cannot share cultural contributions.
Today, people sometimes focus on 'physical survival at any cost'. I've worked in a hospital, and I'll tell you something I know from experience. You can prolong the life of the body, but if the heart has no hope, and the mind no purpose, you've created a living hell.
Hope for the heart. and Purpose for the mind, is what Spiritual Sages, and cultural contributers, work to provide. We need them !
If you teach your children just to survive physically, at any cost, and to dismiss cultural representatives as unnecessary, your children may survive at the cost of all that gave life meaning. One day, a sad, hollow, call may come - "Okay - I survived ! What for ?!"
You'd better hope someone has worked to offer some answers for that !
Down through the Ages, wise ones of all stations in life have recognized the value of cultural contribution. Here's a handed-down story to illustrate.
It is told that Pericles, Emperor of Athens, had a banquet for his Officers on the eve of an important battle. One at a time, the honored warriors raised their goblets to offer a toast to the promise of tomorrow's victory.
Among those attending, was the Court Poet, invited by Pericles also. When it passed to the poet to offer a toast, he stated that he felt rather out of place among all those brave men. He offered a simple toast, probably to their safe return.
After all had drank to the toast, Pericles rose again, and proposed a toast to the poet - saying - "There is no more noble man at this table, than you, our poet friend. Yes - we go forth to battle tomorrow. Whether we win or lose, we will suffer some loss. When we return, it is you who must give us a reason to begin again."
If you are planning for survival of extreme conditions, include at least one member with a guitar and songbook. It may sound like a small thing, but it might make a big difference.
-63-
Henry David Thoreau and Ralph Waldo Emerson were friends. Their period of late 1800s and early 1900s in New England produced a wealth of creative individuals who touched their times with cultural influence.
When Thoreau was in jail for refusing to pay taxes, Emerson went to see him. He said -"Henry, what are you doing here "?! To which Thoreau replied - "Ralph, what are you doing NOT here"?!
What was the decision they made which made the difference ?
Thoreau considered it his moral right and duty to protest and resist what he preceived as wrongs of society. And he lived his life faithful to those beliefs. But he was a creative man, not a destructive man.
Emerson believed that by consenting to the established system of his time, he could reach more people, offering a higher vision enabling them to find meaning in their lives,regardless of demands of rote and routine. He too, lived his life true to his belief.
Neither lived ideally happy lives. Yet, both influenced their times, and still present each generation with the same question - requiring decision.
Both left an inspirational legacy of some of the most beautiful prose, and lofty ideals, of human experience. Who was right? Who was wrong? Both, to the first question. Neither, to the second question. They each lived true to their vision, and left behind a record of ideals that gave meaning to their lives. Both were creative.
At least, that's the way I see it. Both cared. Our decisions should always be as true to what we can put heart and soul into, as is possible in our circumstance. Then we can know - we tried our best.
Each generation faces decision. We need to give thought and attention to what we would like to bring to our times. This is what gives direction to our lives, and will motivate us through the years.
We offer this lyric as Public Domain, and have no copyright claim on it. Feel free to make use of it. The concept is worth circulating.
Sing it in song forever.
Music and memory, flowing and clear -
call it "The Book Of Remember".
Songs like a garden in flowering Time,
hearty and brave and tender.
Make it a History in music and rhyme.
Call it "The Book Of Remember".
Chorus
Down the Long Road, on through the years,
Processions of wandering glory,
passing through trials, troubles and tears,
songs of Humanity's story.
Pass on the memories, adding your own.
Make it a song of Victory,
steady and more enduring than stone.
Call it "The Spirit's History".
A vivid Procession , through places and times ,
songs of faithful splendor.
Woven with love - triumphantly fine.
Call it - "The Book Of Remember"
Chorus
Parent to child - lover to lover -
teacher to student - pass it along -
all that we learn - and all we discover -
"The Book Of Remember" - in song !
-65-