WA2K Radio is now on the air

Hey, L.E. Great song, Brit. but greater still is seeing you back in our studio.

I love it, folks, when music and poetry come together. Ellpus' song brought this to mind.

WHO HAS SEEN THE WIND ?
BY: CHRISTINA ROSSETTI



Who has seen the wind?

Neither I nor you:

But when the leaves hang trembling

The wind is passing thro'


Who has seen the wind?

Neither you nor I:

But when the trees bow down their heads

The wind is passing by.

Lovely songs, Ellpus. Really lovely.

Indeed it is, Ellpus, but just who is this Betty that you have been sleeping with? <smile>

An answer to the sense of touch, listeners:


"Nylons A Touch Of Your Hand lyrics"

How do I tell I'm not dreaming
When do I know that it's true
Why is the heartache not healin'
I can't shake this feelin'
When I'm thinking of you

Who is the face in the mirror
Where is the man I once knew
I can't believe that I'm fallin'
I hear your voice callin'
Should I run back to you

Why do I think I'm in love
With a touch of your hand
Why do I think I'm in love
With a touch of your hand
I lose all control
With a touch of your hand
It's a feelin' I can't understand
With a touch of your hand

How did you find my emotions
You made it hard to be strong
Now it's too late to refuse you
I don't want to lose you
I've been waiting so long

Chorus

Don't you let go
This is just the beginning
Don't you let go
There are so many things that I wanted to say
Don't you let go
I've just got to know
If it's love, let me know where I stand
With a touch of your hand
With a touch of your hand

Chorus

You can probably tell that I am at present, compiling the deep and meaningful playlist.

Here's another....from Elvis Costello.

A GOOD YEAR FOR THE ROSES. (sob)

I can hardly bear the sight of lipstick on the cigarettes there in the ashtray,
Lying cold the way you left them, but at least your lips caressed them while you packed.
Or the lip-print on a half-filled cup of coffee that you poured and didnt drink
But at least you thought you wanted it, thats so much more than I can say
For me

What a good year for the roses
Many blooms still linger there
The lawn could stand another mowin
Funny I dont even care
As you turn to walk away
As the door behind you closes
The only thing I have to say
Its been a good year for the roses

After three full years of marriage, its the first time that you havent
Made the bed
I guess the reason we're not talking, theres so little left to say we haven't said.
While a million thoughts go racing through my mind, I find I havent said a word
From the bedroom the familiar sound of a babys crying goes unheard

What a good year for the roses
Many blooms still linger there
The lawn could stand another mowin
Funny I dont even care
As you turn to walk away
As the door behind you closes
The only thing I have to say
Its been a good year for the roses.

"Don't you think it expresses the idea that "I love you" isn't strong nor deep enough to tell the woman how he feels?"


Unfortunately, lyrics sometimes tell only half the story. Listen to the music and it can give a different meaning to the words.




AEROSMITH lyrics -
"Dream On"

Every time that I look in the mirror
all these lines on my face getting clearer
the past is gone
it went by like dusk to dawn
isn't that the way
everybody's got their dues in life to pay

yeah, I know nobody knows
where it comes and where it goes
I know it's everybody's sin
you got to lose to know how to win

half my life's in books' written pages
live and learn from fools and from sages
you know it's true
all the things come back to you

sing with me, sing for the years
sing for the laughter and sing for the tears
sing with me, if it's just for today
maybe tomorrow the good Lord will take you away

dream on, dream on, dream on,
dream yourself a dream come true
dream on, dream on, dream on,
and dream until your dream comes true
dream on [7x]

Well, to both Try and Ellpus a painting that fills the mind and soul with images of dreaming:



Raphael

Ah! MY kind of music!

Well, Eva. I think what we consider to be our kind of music hinges on the mood. This song is funny, folks:

Lyrics for Song: My Kind Of Music

Oh, I met this girl I swore was close to perfect.
I could see the ring, the dress, and the whole nine yards.
I had a country station on and she reached and turned it.
Said she couldnt stand the sound of a steel guitar.
We hit the town to catch an early movie.
And ol' Kris Kristofferson played the leading role.
I said "That's my man!" She said "Who's he?"
I jumped up and said "Girl, we gotta go!"

She dont like to play my kinda music.
She's never heard a Waylon Jennings song.
She's never been a fan of Willie Nelson.
So there aint no way in hell we'll get along.

She told me she thinks country musics hokey.
She said "You can't dance to it, and all the songs are sad."
I cocked my eyebrow and said "You must be jokin!"
"Ain't no excuse for havin taste that bad."
Then I asked her if she'd heard of Alan Jackson.
And she said "Didn't he sing that song called 'Where Were You?'"
I said "Ya, but girl, that man's a livin' legend."
And she said "Really? I thought he was new."

She dont like tp play my kinda music.
She's never heard of David Allan Coe.
She can't get enough of Whitney Houston.
And I'm thinkin "Lord, that's all i need to know."

So when the night was over i walked her to her door.
And i bid that girl an overdue farewell.
And without a good night kiss i jumped back in my truck.
Turned on some Hank and cranked it loud as hell.

She don't like to play my kinda music.
She don't know Sunday morning comin down.
She can't see what's so cool about he stopped lovin' her today.
Or angel flying to close to the ground.
She told me that she sorta likes the Eagles.
She couldn't name one hit by Johnny Cash.

No, she don't like to play my kinda music.
So i had to tell that girl to (bleep)

Love it!

True. But Raphael's brand of "music" always appeals to me. Thanks for posting the eye candy.

The entire point of our radio station is to bring the creative together with Thomas Mann. (figure that one out)

Often, I look at a painting and it does absolutely nothing for me, then, as Try has said about the melody, things can be heard on a canvas.

Do you hear this?



L'homme a la houe
Millet

Thomas Mann?! Whoa! Lots of material there. Perhaps you mean bringing the creative together with the psychology of the artist?

I can hear the sweat pouring off the man's brow in the Millet.

Pragmatism, Eva. If it works; it's right, but then there are those who never got to choose.

and I can hear the ring of the hoe as it hits a rock. Now let us read the poem that inspired the painting, folks:

Man with a Hoe
by: Edwin Markham





Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans
Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground,
The emptiness of ages in his face,
And on his back, the burden of the world.
Who made him dead to rapture and despair,
A thing that grieves not and that never hopes,
Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox?
Who loosened and let down this brutal jaw?
Whose was the hand that slanted back this brow?
Whose breath blew out the light within this brain?
Is this the Thing the Lord God made and gave
To have dominion over sea and land;
To trace the stars and search the heavens for power;
To feel the passion of Eternity?
Is this the dream He dreamed who shaped the suns
And marked their ways upon the ancient deep?
Down all the caverns of Hell to their last gulf
There is no shape more terrible than this--
More tongued with cries against the world's blind greed--
More filled with signs and portents for the soul--
More packed with danger to the universe.
What gulfs between him and the seraphim!
Slave of the wheel of labor, what to him
Are Plato and the swing of the Pleiades?
What the long reaches of the peaks of song,
The rift of dawn, the reddening of the rose?
Through this dread shape the suffering ages look;
Time's tragedy is in that aching stoop;
Through this dread shape humanity betrayed,
Plundered, profaned and disinherited,
Cries protest to the Powers that made the world,
A protest that is also prophecy.

O masters, lords and rulers in all lands,
Is this the handiwork you give to God,
This monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched?
How will you ever straighten up this shape;
Touch it again with immortality;
Give back the upward looking and the light;
Rebuild in it the music and the dream;
Make right the immemorial infamies,
Perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes?

O masters, lords and rulers in all lands,
How will the future reckon with this Man?
How answer his brute question in that hour
When whirlwinds of rebellion shake all shores?
How will it be with kingdoms and with kings--
With those who shaped him to the thing he is--
When this dumb Terror shall rise to judge the world,
After the silence of the centuries?

Does it match your mind; your heart; or your conscience?

letty : just dropping by to say "good evening , everyone !" .
(picture posting kept me busy earlier today - fingers aren't too nimble !)

anyone want to listen to gordon lightfoot's :
(almost sounds like an epic poem - pretty dramatic , isn't it ?)

Canadian Railroad Trilogy
----------------------------
There was a time in this fair land when the railroad did not run
When the wild majestic mountains stood alone against the sun
Long before the white man and long before the wheel
When the green dark forest was too silent to be real
But time has no beginnings and hist'ry has no bounds
As to this verdant country they came from all around
They sailed upon her waterways and they walked the forests tall
And they built the mines the mills and the factories for the good of us all

And when the young man's fancy was turnin' to the spring
The railroad men grew restless for to hear the hammers ring
Their minds were overflowing with the visions of their day
And many a fortune lost and won and many a debt to pay

For they looked in the future and what did they see
They saw an iron road runnin' from sea to the sea
Bringin' the goods to a young growin' land
All up through the seaports and into their hands

Look away said they across this mighty land
From the eastern shore to the western strand
Bring in the workers and bring up the rails
We gotta lay down the tracks and tear up the trails
Open 'er heart let the life blood flow
Gotta get on our way 'cause we're movin' too slow

Bring in the workers and bring up the rails
We're gonna lay down the tracks and tear up the trails
Open 'er heart let the life blood flow
Gotta get on our way 'cause we're movin' too slow
Get on our way 'cause we're movin' too slow

Behind the blue rockies the sun is declinin'
The stars, they come stealin' at the close of the day
Across the wide prairie our loved ones lie sleeping
Beyond the dark oceans in a place far away

We are the navvies who work upon the railway
Swingin' our hammers in the bright blazin' sun
Livin' on stew and drinkin' bad whiskey
Bendin' our old backs 'til the long days are done

We are the navvies who work upon the railway
Swingin' our hammers in the bright blazin' sun
Layin' down track and buildin' the bridges
Bendin' our old backs 'til the railroad is done

So over the mountains and over the plains
Into the muskeg and into the rain
Up the st. lawrence all the way to gaspe
Swingin' our hammers and drawin' our pay
Drivin' 'em in and tyin' 'em down
Away to the bunkhouse and into the town
A dollar a day and a place for my head
A drink to the livin' and a toast to the dead

Oh the song of the future has been sung
All the battles have been won
O'er the mountain tops we stand
All the world at our command
We have opened up the soil
With our teardrops and our toil

For there was a time in this fair land when the railroad did not run
When the wild majestic mountains stood alone against the sun
Long before the white man and long before the wheel
When the green dark forest was too silent to be real
When the green dark forest was too silent to be real
And many are the dead men too silent to be real

hamburger, Welcome back. I adore epic poetry, especially when it takes the form of song.

I must eat, but I want to read Mr. Lightfoot more thoroughly. <smile

hamburger, that was indeed an epic of life and it painted a picture on my memory. Some things, folks, can be told in a few words, but when we think of our pristine planet, it takes an eternity. It did so go with Millet and Markham. Thank you, Canada, for Gordon Lightfoot's history canvas.

from irish scamps the pogues, two takes on the railroad and those that built it

Navigator
Pogues

The canals and the bridges, the embankments and cuts,
They blasted and dug with their sweat and their guts
They never drank water but whiskey by pints
And the shanty towns rang with their songs and their fights.

Navigator, Navigator rise up and be strong
The morning is here and there's work to be done.
Take your pick and your shovel and the bold dynamite
For to shift a few tons of this earthly delight
Yes to shift a few tons of this earthly delight.

They died in their hundreds with no sign to mark where
Save the brass in the pocket of the entrepreneur.
By landslide and rockblast they got buried so deep
That in death if not life they'll have peace while they sleep.

Navigator, Navigator rise up and be strong
The morning is here and there's work to be done.
Take your pick and your shovel and the bold dynamite
For to shift a few tons of this earthly delight
Yes to shift a few tons of this earthly delight.

Their mark on this land is still seen and still laid
The way for a commerce where vast fortunes were made
The supply of an Empire where the sun never set
Which is now deep in darkness, but the railway's there yet.

Navigator, Navigator rise up and be strong
The morning is here and there's work to be done.
Take your pick and your shovel and the bold dynamite
For to shift a few tons of this earthly delight
Yes to shift a few tons of this earthly delight.


Poor Paddy
Pogues

In eighteen hundred and forty-one
The corduroy breeches I put on
Me corduroy breeches I put on
To work upon the railway, the railway
I'm weary of the railway
Poor Paddy works on the railway

In eighteen hundred and forty-two
From Hartlepool I moved to Crewe
Found myself a job to do
A working on the railway

I was wearing corduroy breeches
Digging ditches, pulling switches
Dodging pitches, as I was
Working on the Railway

In eighteen hundred and forty-three
I broke the shovel across me knee
I went to work for the company
On the Leeds to Selby railway

I was wearing corduroy breeches
Digging ditches, pulling switches
Dodging pitches, as I was
Working on the Railway

In eighteen hundred and forty-four
I landed on the Liverpool shore
My belly was empty me hands were raw
With working on the railway, the railway
I'm sick to my guts of the railway
Poor Paddy works on the railway

In eighteen hundred and forty-five
When Daniel O'Connell he was alive
When Daniel O'Connell he was alive
And working on the railway

I was wearing corduroy breeches
Digging ditches, pulling switches
Dodging pitches, as I was
Working on the Railway

In eighteen hundred and forty-six
I changed my trade to carrying bricks
I changed my trade to carrying bricks
To work upon the railway

I was wearing corduroy breeches
Digging ditches, pulling switches
Dodging pitches, as I was
Working on the Railway

In eighteen hundred and forty-seven
Poor Paddy was thinking of going to Heaven
The old bugger was thinking of going to Heaven
To work upon the railway, the railway
I'm sick to my death of the railway
Poor Paddy works on the railway

I was wearing corduroy breeches
Digging ditches, pulling switches
Dodging pitches, as I was
Working on the Railway

Ah, dear dj. Yes, there are always two sides to those who labor, no? and then there are those who "only stand and wait." thank you, Canada, and let us know when you and Bo, Go...<smile> That way, I can worry.

Goodnight, my friends.

From Letty with love.

I do love those Pogues.




AEROSMITH lyrics -
"Make It"

Good evening people, welcome to the show
got something here I want you all to know
when laughin' people bring on primal screams
you got to think of what it's gonna take to make your dreams
make it
don't break it
I said make it
don't break it
do then ya feel like the world's coming down on you
you know that history repeats itself
but you just learned so by somebody else
you know you do, you gotta think up fast
you gotta figure what it's gonna take to make it last
make it
don't fake it
said make it
don't fake it
better weather, pull yourself together
don't be catchin' the blues
better weather, pull yourself together
what have you got to lose
you're only paying your dues
if you're gone I'll get you anyway
although you know what you've been going through



Good night Miss Letty!

before 'turning in' here is gordon lightfoot's

"alberta bound"

Oh the prairie lights are burnin' bright
The Chinook wind is a-movin' in
Tomorrow night I'll be Alberta bound
Though I've done the best I could
My old luck ain't been so good and
Tomorrow night I'll be Alberta bound
No one-eyed man could e'er forget
The Rocky Mountain sunset
It's a pleasure just to be Alberta bound
I long to see my next of kin
To know what kind of shape they're in
Tomorrow night I'll be Alberta bound
Alberta bound, Alberta bound
It's good to be Alberta bound
Alberta bound, Alberta bound
It's good to be Alberta bound

Oh the skyline of Toronto
Is somethin' you'll get onto
But they say you've got to live there for a while
And if you got the money
You can get yourself a honey
A written guarantee ta make you smile
But it's snowin' in the city
And the streets and brown and gritty
And I know there's pretty girls all over town
But they never seem ta find me
And the one I left behind me
Is the reason that I'll be Alberta bound

Big Girls Don't Cry
The Four Seasons

[Words and Music by Bob Crewe and Bob Gaudio]

Big girls don't cry
Big girls don't cry

Bi-ig girls do-on't cry-yi-yi (they don't cry)
Bi-ig girls do-on't cry-yi-yi (who said they don't cry)
(My-y girl) said goodbye-yi-yi (my oh my)
My-y girl didn't cry (I wonder why)

(Silly boy) told my girl we had to break up
(Silly boy) hoped that she would call my bluff
(Silly boy) then she said to my surprise
"Big girls don't cry"

Bi-ig girls do-on't cry-yi-yi (they don't cry)
Bi-ig girls do-on't cry-yi-yi (who said they don't cry)

(May-y-be) I was cru-u-uel ( I was cruel)
Bay-y-be I'm a fool (I'm such a fool)

(Silly girl) "Shame on you" your mama said
(Silly girl) "you're cryin' in bed"
(Silly girl) "Shame on you, you told me lies"
Big girls do cry

Bi-ig girls do-on't cr-y-y (they don't cry)
Bi-ig girls do-on't cr-y-y (that's just an alibi)
Big girls cry
Big girls cry
Big girls cry
Big girls cry

Big girls cry