No, He's Not an Old Man....

--- but he plays one in this song. I like telling stories with the songs I write, and in this one, an old man looks back on a long and satisfying life.

I think Craig does a great job in his role as The Elderly Gentleman, despite the fact that he's a rather hunky-looking, middle-aged guy with more than a few good years left in him.

"I'll Fly Away" is a tip o' the hat to the gospel song we enjoy singing here at home. Lyrics are below.



You tube link: here.

I'll Fly Away
words and music © Erin Coombs Friedman

I been called a stubborn cuss
Set like cement in my ways
Start too many stories with
“Back in my day”
But my glory days are memories
And the best of me ain’t what it used to be
I won’t dig in my heels when it’s time to leave

Chorus:

I’ve been loved more than I deserve
Saved by a good woman and the Word
Won some high-priced victories
Made mistakes, made my peace
When the choir sings for me
I’ll Fly Away
I’ll Fly Away
I’ll Fly Away

Was headed down a wicked road
When she laid her hand in mine
Raised me up with a touch
Made me proud to walk the line
Good times and bad, we were blessed
From lullabies to empty nest
Ready for what the good Lord’s planning next

A Bit of Irish for St. Patrick's Day

According to family legend, my great-great grandfather George Convy brought a piece of sod from the homeland when he emigrated from Ireland in 1866. Now and again he would take it out and have a good cry.

The Irish, who fled their country by the thousands, did not have a word for "emigrate" -- instead, they used the word for "exile," which struck me as sad and poignant. In this song.The Turf o' Tullamore - I pay tribute to my Irish ancestors, who came from Tullamore, Ireland, to make a new life in St Louis, MO, -- and occasionally grieved for their homeland.





The Turf o' Tullamore
words and music © Erin Coombs Friedman


Into the West – land of the free
In freedom will I e’er a stranger be
So up the stairs I climb
Open up the trunk and find
The piece of home I carried ‘cross the sea

chorus:

Weeping o’er The Turf o’ Tullamore
Exiles both – the Irish sod and I
The Turf o’ Tullamore
Will know my bones forevermore
Sweeten my grave when I
Lay down to die


For my sons, I made a pledge
They’ll not beg the Crown for daily bread
There’s days I understand
The promise in this promised land
And days I fill my glass with my regrets

chorus

When I take my final rest
Lay the Turf o’ Tullamore upon my breast
And it’s sweet - the dream I’ll dream
Home to Erin’s fields of green
By the Shannon’s holy waters, I’ll be blessed

chorus

Youtube Link Here

Music You Can Sink Your Teeth Into....

That's Whole Wheat Radio.

It's a hardy, flavorful treat after a bland diet of mainstream radio's fluffy Wonder Bread.

From the WWR website:

"Whole Wheat Radio is a homegrown grassroots online radio station originating from Talkeetna, Alaska."

"We feature the music of 2,794 truly talented independent artists who appreciate the opportunity to have their 43,500 songs be heard on a funky, non-traditional webcast. We've had over 19,092,527 listens to the more than 885,083 tunes we've played."

Every time I listen, I hear delightful, interesting new stuff. You can request music, submit CDs for play and interact with other listeners - cool folks who appreciate and enjoy indie music. They've even played a few "Still Married" tunes.

I added a Whole Wheat Radio button to my blog and a WWR player to my Facebook page. Every time I listen, I'm entertained and amazed by these talented artists. I marvel at this era we're living in - where artists can share music with the whole world, by way of a tiny town in Alaska, with just a few clicks.

Log in and listen for a bit - I promise you'll hear something flavorful and delicious.

Whole Wheat Radio

Still Married Page on Whole Wheat Radio

And the Oscar for best perfomance by a Christmas Decoration goes to....

......Drosselmeyer, the plastic owl.

During December, our owl perches at the top of our Christmas tree:

The rest of the year he bides his time in the front hall. But last week he was conscripted to duty just outside the front door. His mission: Keep those blasted, messy chickens from soiling our front porch.

Drosselmeyer has taken to his new role as "Menacing Bird of Prey" with relish, and the chickens have abandoned the porch for more hospitable stomping grounds. The front porch is litter-free.

Or maybe it's a coincidence and the hens are having a good chicken-chuckle behind my back. Whatever. I am considering a few more owls. Or maybe fewer chickens.

Here's our one-and-only chicken song, dedicated to those feisty critters:

You tube link: Here.

Possum in the Hen House
words and music © Erin Coombs Friedman