damn stupid bard...

[jenk]

This morning I ended up doing sit-ups to the Dixie Chicks' version of "Travelin' Soldier". This afternoon, after listening to Gaia Circles, Rumors, and Melissa Etheridge, I still had "Travelin' Soldier" in my head. Yes, it's a nice song, well written & so on, but I was getting tired of it.

So *fine*, I decided, I'll listen to "Wooden Toy Sword" while I'm fixing dinner. That'll get it out of my head. Besides, it's on the same album as "A Gypsy's Home", and I love the fiddle playing on that song (sorry Chicks fans - Heather's better ;)

By the end of the song I was crying. Damn it. Stupid damn talented bards and their stupid damn songs...

Oh, and around the 6th verse the stupid damn lid of the can of peas cut my thumb.

I am going to listen to *HAPPY* music for a while, OK?


Travelin' Soldier (written by Bruce Robison & Farrah Braniff; you can hear a bit of it here)
Two days past eighteen
He was waitin' for the bus in his army greens
Sat down in a booth at a café there
Gave his order to the girl with a bow in her hair
He's a little shy so she gave him a smile
So he said would you mind sittin' down for a while
And talkin' to me I'm feelin' a little low
She said I'm off in an hour and I know where we can go

So they went down and they sat on the pier
He said I bet you got a boyfriend but I don't care
I've got no one to send a letter to
Would you mind if I sent one back here to you?

CHORUS:
I cried
Never gonna hold the hand of another guy
Too young for him they told her
Waitin' for the love of the travelin' soldier
Our love will never end
Waitin' for the soldier to come back again
Never more to be alone
When the letter says a soldier's coming home

So the letters came
From an army camp
In California then Vietnam
And he told his heart
It might be love
And all of the things he was so scared of
Said when it's gettin kinda tough over here
I think about that day sittin' down at the pier
And close my eyes and see your pretty smile
Now don't worry but I won't be able to write for a while

CHORUS

(Martie's fiddle break - Emily's dobro break)

One Friday night at a football game
The Lord's Prayer said and the anthem sang
A man said folks would you bow your heads
For the list of local Vietnam dead
Cryin' all alone under the stands
Was the piccolo player in the marching band
And one name read and no one really cared
But a pretty little girl with a bow in her hair

CHORUS



Wooden Toy Sword music & lyrics: Heather Alexander; you can hear it at her website.
Oh a father and son, they were bonded as one
But the heart of the family soon tore
For out sounded the call, to one and to all
That the king and the land went to war

Oh, the laddie he cried, but his father denied
To bring the young soldier along
"For your might I award this wooden toy sword
And I charge you to carry this song"

CHORUS:
Won’t you come and wait for me at the gate
With your wooden toy sword in your hand?
It is then I will come with the beat of the drum
From defending my king and my land

So the father, he taught his son as he ought
To defend both his hearth and his home
But soon came the day that his Da went away
Across the wild horses of foam

He practiced ‘til night with skill and with might
To learn how to fight for a king
and he’d shun other boys with their useless new toys
And he’d whistle a song and he’d sing

Oh the years slowly turned, broad shoulders grew burned
Fine hair lengthened to a proud mane
In the middle of spring with a fell practice swing
The toy sword had broken in twain

The break caused him harm, as the wood pierced his arm
And the blood flowed quite free to the ground
As his vision grew dim the wind mourned out a hymn
That echoed these words round and round

Though the day had grown late the young man went to wait
And unsteadily gazed at the sky
As the red sun sank low, it soon caused him to know
That his last day of childhood would die

The stars swam across the night sky with his loss
And his father appeared in that sea
And the drum of his heart nearly broke him apart
As he fell to the ground on one knee

For he’d come to wait for his Da at the gate
With a broken toy sword in his hand
From beyond death he’ll come with the beat of love’s drum
To honour his son and his land