WA2K Radio is now on the air

Route 66 is the major street in Albuquerque, now known as Central Ave. When I was a little girl, we would drive from Arizona to Colorado to visit family. Part of the trip was on Rt. 66 through Albuquerque, where we would inevitalble get lost:

"Get Your Kicks (On Route 66)"

Bobby Troup, 1946, Londontown Music
If you ever plan to motor west:

Travel my way, the highway that's the best.

Get your kicks on Route 66!

It winds from Chicago to L.A.,

More than 2,000 miles all the way,

Get your kicks on Route 66 !

Now you go thru St. Looey...Joplin, Missouri!

And Oklahoma City looks mighty pretty.

You'll see Amarillo...Gallup, New Mexico.

Flagstaff, Arizona: don't forget Winona,

Kingman, Barstow, San Bernardino.

Won't you..get hip to this timely tip:

when you..make that California trip.

Get your kicks on Route 66!


Although this song emmbodies the optimistic spirit many of Route 66 travelers had in the 1920's and 1940's, Woody Gutherie's Dust Bowl ballads most poignantly paint the picture of America's battered migrant farmers. Born in Okemah, Oklahoma (a city along Route 66), Guthrie grew up during the Depression and more significantly during the Dust Bowl of 1935. His music touched the hearts of these farmers as America's most famous "folk singer" traveled from Texas to California. His ballads later influenced pop artists such as Bruce Springsteen, Bob Dylan, and Billy Bragg. Singing about love, war, natural disasters, fascism, unions, and families, Gutherie wrote over 1000 original songs. His career lasted less than 20 years but his impact on music and Route 66 culture has lived on.

Yes, Try, America. Let it be what it should be, buddy.

From the "show me" state a lovely song in our history:

Shenandoah was an Indian chief living on the Missouri River.
Missouri, she's a mighty river
Way-aye, you rolling river
The redskin's camp lies on its borders,
A way - we're bound away
'cross the wide Missouri!

The white man loved the Indian maid,
Way-aye, you rolling river!
With notions his canoe was laden
A way - we're bound away
'cross the wide Missouri!

Oh Shenandoah, I love your daughter
Way-aye, you rolling river
I'll take her 'cross yon rolling water
A way - we're bound away
'cross the wide Missouri!

The Chief disdained the trader's dollars,
Way-aye, you rolling river
My daughter you shall never follow
A way - we're bound away
'cross the wide Missouri!

For seven years I courted Sally,
Way-aye, you rolling river
For seven more I longed to have her
A way - we're bound away
'cross the wide Missouri!

She said she would not be my lover
Way-aye, you rolling river
Because I was a tarry sailor
A way - we're bound away
'cross the wide Missouri!

At last there came a Yankee skipper
Way-aye, you rolling river
He winked his eye, and he tipped his flipper
A way - we're bound away
'cross the wide Missouri!

He sold the Chief that fire-water
Way-aye, you rolling river
And 'cross the river he stole his daughter
A way - we're bound away
'cross the wide Missouri!

Oh Shenandoah! I long to hear you,
Way-aye, you rolling river
Across that wide and rolling river.
A way - we're bound away
'cross the wide Missouri!

Listen, if you like, folks:

http://www.contemplator.com/sea/shenand.html

Missed your song, Diane. Bud loved it! Thanks for reminding us, honey.

Well, folks, tomorrow is an anniversary of sorts, so that song by the lady Di, will be for him, and Try's song can be for dyslexia.

cheesy anthem rock from the 70's

love it

Two Out Of Three Ain't Bad
MeatLoaf

Baby we can talk all night
But that ain't gettin us nowhere
I told you everything I possibly can
There's nothing left inside of here
And maybe you can cry all night
But that'll never change the way I feel
The snow is really piling up outside
I wish you wouldn't make me leave here
I poured it on and I poured it out
I tried to show you just how much I care
I'm tired of words and I'm too hoarse to shout
But you've been cold to me so long
I'm crying icicles instead of tears
And all I can do
Is keep on telling you
I want you (I want you)
I need you (I need you)
But-there ain't no way I'm ever gonna love you
Now don't be sad (Don't be sad)
'Cause two out of three ain't bad
Now don't be sad (Cause)
'Cause two out of three ain't bad

You'll never find your gold on a sandy beach
You'll never drill for oil on a city street
I know you're looking for a ruby in a mountain of rocks
But there ain't no Coup de Ville
Hiding at the bottom of a Cracker Jack box
I can't lie
I can't tell you that I'm something I'm not
No matter how I try
I'll never be able
To give you something
Something that I just haven't got
There's only one girl that I will ever love
And that was so many years ago
And though I know I'll never get her out of my heart
She never loved me back
Ooh I know
I remember how she left me on a stormy night
She kissed me and got out of our bed
And though I pleaded and I begged her not to walk out that door
She packed her bags and turned right away
And she kept on telling me
She kept on telling me
She kept on telling me
I want you (I want you)
I need you (I need you)
But there ain't no way I'm ever gonna love you
Now don't be sad (Don't be sad)
'Cause two out of three ain't bad
I want you (I want you)
I need you (I need you)
But there ain't no way I'm ever gonna love you
Now don't be sad (Don't be sad)
'Cause two out of three ain't bad
Now don't be sad (Don't)
'Cause two out of three ain't bad
Baby we can talk all night
But that ain't getting us nowhere

from across the pond, from billy to diane, letty et al

to the tune of route 66

A13 Trunk Road To The Sea
Words: Billy Bragg
Music: Bobby Troup

If you ever have to go to Shoeburyness
Take the A road, the okay road that's the best
Go motorin' on the A13

If you're looking for a thrill that's new
Take in Fords, Dartford Tunnel and the river too
Go motorin' on the A13

It starts down in Wapping
There ain't no stopping
By-pass Barking and straight through Dagenham
Down to Grays Thurrock
And rather near Basildon
Pitsea, Thundersley, Hadleigh, Leigh-On-Sea,
Chalkwell, Prittlewell
Southend's the end

If you ever have to go to Shoeburyness
Take the A road, the okay road that's the best
Go motorin' on the A13

some goblins and gremlins at work i see

or maybe zombie hamsters

Monster Mash

I was working in the lab late one night
When my eyes beheld an eerie sight
For my monster from his slab began to rise
And suddenly to my surprise

He did the mash
He did the monster mash
The monster mash
It was a graveyard smash
He did the mash
It caught on in a flash
He did the mash
He did the monster mash

From my laboratory in the castle east
To the master bedroom where the vampires feast
The ghouls all came from their humble abodes
To get a jolt from my electrodes

They did the mash
They did the monster mash
The monster mash
It was a graveyard smash
They did the mash
It caught on in a flash
They did the mash
They did the monster mash

The zombies were having fun
The party had just begun
The guests included Wolf Man
Dracula and his son

The scene was rockin', all were digging the sounds
Igor on chains, backed by his baying hounds
The coffin-bangers were about to arrive
With their vocal group, "The Crypt-Kicker Five"

They played the mash
They played the monster mash
The monster mash
It was a graveyard smash
They played the mash
It caught on in a flash
They played the mash
They played the monster mash

Out from his coffin, Drac's voice did ring
Seems he was troubled by just one thing
He opened the lid and shook his fist
And said, "Whatever happened to my Transylvania twist?"

It's now the mash
It's now the monster mash
The monster mash
And it's a graveyard smash
It's now the mash
It's caught on in a flash
It's now the mash
It's now the monster mash

Now everything's cool, Drac's a part of the band
And my monster mash is the hit of the land
For you, the living, this mash was meant too
When you get to my door, tell them Boris sent you

Then you can mash
Then you can monster mash
The monster mash
And do my graveyard smash
Then you can mash
You'll catch on in a flash
Then you can mash
Then you can monster mash

Nice!

Love it! Haunted Website Radio?

what wonderful lyrics, dj, and here Letty is in the midst of "The Red Dragon" with Hannibal the Cannibal.

Winter's Bane
The Haunted House

In a creepy old house on a stormy dale lane
There's a run down sing that says : Enter if you dares
I opened the gates and took a deep breath
and climbed down the decaying stairs

The chilling gray fog made it hard to see
but I noticed the silvery moon
A twisted little fellow, which I thought was a man
Whistled a nightmarish tune
He held out his hand and hissed for his fee
pointed the way then disappeared

It's been too long - there's no way out
I'll die in here - in the haunted house
Glass walls consume - concealing my fate
Is dying worth what I paid - In the haunted house

It's only a small price to pay for my fetish
A hellish scare
I entered for the first floor it reeked of death
Cobwebs everywhere
Down a dark hallway distorted faces on the wall
chanting my name, crying out loud
It was more than real

Trapped in this maze of glass
my soul's been abandoned
Now I scream your name
crying for help I call
My voice is mutated
now I'm a twisted face on the wall

It's been too long - there's no way out
I'll die in here - in the haunted house
Glass walls consume - concealing my fate
Is dying worth what I paid - In the haunted house

Goodnight,
From Letty the witch, but still with love.

Unbelievable. It appears that the she wolf and I are not the only witches in this studio.



One more time.

Goodnight, goblins.

It's Not Easy Being Green

It's not that easy being green
Having to spend each day the color of the leaves
When I think it could be nicer being red, or yellow or gold
Or something much more colorful like that

It's not easy being green
It seems you blend in with so many other ordinary things
And people tend to pass you over 'cause you're
Not standing out like flashy sparkles in the water
Or stars in the sky

But green's the color of Spring
And green can be cool and friendly-like
And green can be big like an ocean, or important
Like a mountain, or tall like a tree

When green is all there is to be
It could make you wonder why, but why wonder why
Wonder, I am green and it'll do fine, it's beautiful
And I think it's what I want to be

Kermit the Frog

Good morning, WA2K listeners and contributors. Well, I see everything is back to business as usual, and what a smile all that "hanted" stuff gave me last evening.

Hey, Maine. Love Kermit's allusions in that song, buddy. Thanks, Rex, for reminding us that colors are often a product of an artistic imagination.(a quote from last night's movie, "The Red Dragon.")

From Sir Elton, another color song:

Music by Elton John
Lyrics by Bernie Taupin

There's a chance we may lose it all
All those hollow souls
Can't hope to hold that wall

What I breathe used to be my life
How come a good thing dies
And the evil still survive

Oh I've got to paint it red
Wake up and colour all the pieces
Don't sleep without your faces, and
Oh I've got to paint it red
Put your eyes back in your head
And oh paint it red

Where's the dance they may never dance
All those open hands
Can't hope to have a chance

What I see used to be a smile
How come your lips are sealed
And your spirit never flies

Cash on delivery
That's all they ever said
Grey tones can't be trusted
I say paint it red

I want to dedicate this song to Letty on this special day, just to let you know I'm thinking of you.

A Song of Strength

A song by Fred Hammond

Hold on and wait just a little while
Hold on and wait just a little while
He'll bring a song of strength
Hold on and wait just a little while, little while

(Verse 1)
What do you do
When the life you've planned is shattered
What do you say
When the one you love is gone
How do you live
Seems like no hope for tomorrow
Pain doesn't care where you live or who you are

(Chorus)
Lord You see my life is broken
And I don't know what to do
While I'm in this change, help me remain
I can count on You, oh, oh
When I can't see, I know You'll guide
When I cry out, I know You feel
Now I'm praying, I know You hear
Praying for healing, I know You will

(Verse 2)
Who do you call
When no one has the answer
Where do you go
When the place you've know is no more
When will they stop
All the tears they just keep falling
Pain doesn't care where you live or who you are

(Repeat Chorus)

(Channel)
We ask you to forgive
And we will do the same
We receive Your love
Lord we'll take time to heal

(Vamp)
Hold on and wait just a little while
He'll bring a song of strength in the midnight
Touch our lives with Your loving Hand
Hold on, we'll hold on
(Repeat)

Hold on and wait just a little while
(Repeat)

Dutchy, What a wonderful thing for you to do, my Aussie friend. Thank you, and I always find that extra strength from somewhere, and for today it was from you.

Poem of the day:

Giving Because

Strength beckons,
Strength bonds,
Strength comforts,
Strength weakens,
Love is strength,
Yet strength is___
Non-controlling.

Richard Stilwell

BEAUFORT, North Carolina (Reuters) - Nearly three centuries ago, the notorious pirate Blackbeard ran aground in his ship, the Queen Anne's Revenge, off what is now a North Carolina beach town.
ADVERTISEMENT

This month, a crew of 13 heads out to sea each day, hoping for clear-enough weather to dive the 20 to 25 feet (6 to 7.5 metres) to the ocean bottom to excavate what they believe is Blackbeard's ship.

The team has found cannons, a bell, lead shot of all sizes, gold dust, pewter cups and medical devices, like a urethral syringe used to treat syphilis with mercury.

Well, my goodness, dys. Thank you for that bit of reference concerning Captain Teach. <smile>

Interesting the spelling of Beaufort and Buford:

Facts & Information

The City of Buford has come a long way since its beginnings in 1872 as a depot on the railway line between Atlanta and Charlotte, North Carolina. Major domestic and international companies have established operations in Buford. The Buford Dam has become a major source of power for the state, and Lake Lanier Islands is recognized as a premier recreational development in the Southeast.

A song about Beaufort

We Rigged Our Ship
(Cindy Kallet)

We rigged our ship with lines of silver
Way, hey, and we'll all come down
And we set her sails in New England waters
Way, hey, gonna bring her round

We scraped her decks till our backs were strong
And we caulked her seams with strands of oakum

We oiled her rails with hands of linseed
And we sailed her up to the Beaufort Sea

We sewed her sails with threads of seaweed
And we sailed her into Takoradi

We filled her decks with bales of hay
And we ran her down to Casco Bay

We filled her holds with rum for the winter
And we ran her into Oak Bluffs harbor

We rigged our ship with lines of silver
And we set her sails in New England waters

my avatar, location and signature, are all dedicated to Remembrance Day this month (November 11th in Canada)

and so is this song

The Green Fields of France

Well how do you do, Private William McBride
Do you mind if I sit here down by your grave side?
A rest for awhile in the warm summer sun,
I've been walking all day and I'm nearly done.
And I see by your gravestone that you were only 19
when you joined the glorious fallen in 1916.
Well, I hope you died quick and I hope you died clean
Or, William McBride, was it slow and obscene?

Did they beat the drum slowly?
did they sound the pipes lowly?
Did the rifles fire o'er ye as they lowered you down?
Did the bugle sing 'The Last Post' in chorus?
Did the pipes play 'The Flowers o' the Forest'?

And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind?
In some loyal heart is your memory enshrined
And though you died back in 1916
To that loyal heart are you always 19.
Or are you just a stranger without even a name
Forever enclosed behind some glass-pane
In an old photograph torn and tattered and stained
And fading to yellow in a brown leather frame?

Did they beat the drum slowly?
did they sound the pipes lowly?
Did the rifles fire o'er ye as they lowered you down?
Did the bugle sing 'The Last Post' in chorus?
Did the pipes play 'The Flowers o' the Forest'?

Well, the sun it shines down on these green fields of France,
The warm wind blows gently and the red poppies dance.
The trenches are vanished now under the plough
No gas, no barbed wire, no guns firing now.
But here in this graveyard it is still No Man's Land
And the countless white crosses in mute witness stand.
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man
And a whole generation that was butchered and downed.

Did they beat the drum slowly?
did they sound the pipes lowly?
Did the rifles fire o'er ye as they lowered you down?
Did the bugle sing 'The Last Post' in chorus?
Did the pipes play 'The Flowers o' the Forest'?

And I can't help but wonder now Willie McBride
Do all those who lie here know why they died?
Did you really believe them when they told you the cause?
Did you really believe them that this war would end war?
The suffering, the sorrow, some the glory, the shame -
The killing and dying - it was all done in vain.
For Willie McBride, it's all happened again
And again, and again, and again, and again.

Did they beat the drum slowly?
did they sound the pipe lowly?
Did the rifles fire o'er ye as they lowered you down?
Did the bugle sing 'The Last Post' in chorus?
Did the pipes play 'The Flowers o' the Forest'?

The picture above was made by Mike Lobley especially for the song The Green Fields of France, also known as No Man's Land. The song was written by Eric Bogle.

After a visit to the war cemeteries in France in the early seventies Bogle turned a traditional Scottish lamento into a dramatic fictious conversation with Private William McBride. Maybe Bogle was inspired by an headstone he had seen, but problably the man and the name are equally fictious.

Piet Chielens, coordinator of the In Flanders Fields War Museum in Ypres, Belgium, and organizer of yearly peace concerts in Flanders, once checked all 1,700,000 names that are registered with the Commanwealth War Commission. He found no less than ten Privates William McBride.

Three of these William McBride's fell in 1916, two were members of the Northern Irish Regiment, the Royal Inniskilling Fusilliers, and died more or less in the same spot during the Battle of the Somme in 1916. One was 21, the other 19 years old. "The law of the greatest numbers does beat even the most poetical license", Chielens remarks.

The 19 years old Pte William McBride is buried in Authuille British Cemetery, near Albert and Beaumont-Hamel, where the Inniskilling Fusilliers were deployed as part of the 29th Division.

dj, What a lovely song, and that picture is awesome. Yes, once again you have changed your avatar to Flanders Fields. Interesting those lyrics, Canada, and thank you for reminding us of Remembrance Day. It is All Saints Day here in America, and I had to be reminded.<smile>

Here is a song to match yours, my friend:

The Cowboy's Lament or Streets of Laredo (1876)
by Francis Henry Maynard



As I walked out in the streets of Laredo,
As I walked out in Laredo one day,
I spied a young cowboy wrapped up in white linen,
Wrapped up in white linen and cold as the clay.
"O beat the drum slowly and play the fife lowly;
Play the Dead March as you carry me along.
Take me to the green valley and lay the sod o're me,
For I'm a young cowboy and I know I done wrong."

"I see by your outfit that your are a cowboy."
These words he did say as I boldly stepped by.
"Come sit down beside me and hear my sad story;
I'm shot in the breast and I know I must die."

"My friends and relations they live in the Nation:
They know not where their dear boy has gone.
I first came to Texas and hired to a ranchman,
O I'm a young cowboy and I know I've done wrong."

"It was once in the saddle I used to go dashing:
It was once in the saddle I used to go gay.
First to the dram house and then to the card house,
Got shot in the breast and I'm dying today."

"Get six jolly cowboys to carry my coffin;
Get six pretty maidens to sing me a song.
Put bunches of roses all over my coffin,
Put roses to deaden the clods as they fall."

"Go gather around you a group of young cowboys,
And tell them the story of this my sad fate.
Tell one and the other before they go further,
To stop their wild roving before it's too late."

"Go bring me a cup, a cup of cold water
To cool my parched lips," the young cowboy said.
Before I returned the spirit had left him
And gone to its Maker--the cowboy was dead.

We beat the drum slowly and played the fife lowly,
And bitterly wept as we bore him along.
For awe all loved our comrade, so brave, young, and handsome,
We all loved our comrade although he'd done wrong.