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edgar, Dylan was more of a poet than a musician, methinks, right listeners?

Speaking of listeners:

Walter De La Mare


The Listeners
"Is anybody there?" said the Traveler,
Knocking on the moonlit door;
And his horse in the silence chomped the grasses
Of the forest's ferny floor.
And a bird flew up out of the turret,
Above the traveler's head:
And he smote upon the door a second time;
"Is there anybody there?" he said.
But no one descended to the Traveler;
No head from the leaf-fringed sill
Leaned over and looked into his gray eyes,
Where he stood perplexed and still.
But only a host of phantom listeners
That dwelt in the lone house then
Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight
To that voice from the world of men:
Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair
That goes down to the empty hall,
Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken
By the lonely Traveler's call.
And he felt in his heart their strangeness,
Their stillness answering his cry,
While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,
'Neath the starred and leafy sky;
For he suddenly smote the door, even
Louder, and lifted his head:--
"Tell them I came, and no one answered,
That I kept my word," he said.
Never the least stir made the listeners,
Though every word he spake
Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house
From the one man left awake:
Aye, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,
And the sound of iron on stone,
And how the silence surged softly backward,
When the plunging hoofs were gone.


And for Artunbound who is somewhere:


Silver


Slowly, silently, now the moon
Walks the night in her silver shoon;
This way, and that, she peers, and sees
Silver fruit upon silver trees;
One by one the casements catch
Her beams beneath the silvery thatch;
Couched in his kennel, like a log,
With paws of silver sleeps the dog;
From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep
Of doves in silver feathered sleep
A harvest mouse goes scampering by,
With silver claws, and silver eye;
And moveless fish in the water gleam,
By silver reeds in a silver stream.

Walter de la Mare

Thanks, Yitwail. It really helps to know that, and your scientific explanation fits Cyracuz's thread on reversed gender to perfection.

I think, however, that it was a balsa wood raft in Kon Tiki, and a reed raft in the Ra expedition. Sheeeeeze, manchild. I'll have to check that one out.

Off to the archives.

Great songs are posted here. I especially love Nina Simone. Here are three of the many songs of hers I enjoy. I don't have time to look up her bio, but I think she got a scholarship to Juliard but had to drop out because she didn't have enough money just to live in New York. She also had a tough reputation as a diva--I've always thought it might have come from the fact that she was a true genius who never was able to achieve what she could have if she had been white, at least in the time she was popular.

The way she sings Buck and Sugar makes my 62 year old heart pay attention as it starts feeling like 25 again. Just the way she sings those songs should be X-rated!

Mr. backlash, mr. backlash
Just who do think I am
You raise my taxes, freeze my wages
And send my son to vietnam

You give me second class houses
And second class schools
Do you think that alla colored folks
Are just second class fools
Mr. backlash, I'm gonna leave you
With the backlash blues

When I try to find a job
To earn a little cash
All you got to offer
Is your mean old white backlash
But the world is big
Big and bright and round
And it's full of folks like me
Who are black, yellow, beige and brown
Mr. backlash, I'm gonna leave you
With the backlash blues

Mr. backlash, mr. backlash
Just what do you think I got to lose
I'm gonna leave you
With the backlash blues
You're the one will have the blues
Not me, just wait and see



I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl
========================

I want a little sugar
in my bowl
I want a little sweetness
down in my soul
I could stand some lovin'
Oh so bad
I feel so funny and I feel so sad

I want a little steam
on my clothes
Maybe I can fix things up
so they'll go
Whatsa matter Daddy
Come on, save my soul
I need some sugar in my bowl
I ain't foolin'
I want some sugar in my bowl

You been acting different
I've been told
Soothe me
I want some sugar in my bowl
I want some steam
on my clothes
Maybe I can fix things up so they'll go
Whatsa matter Daddy
Come on save my soul
I want some sugar in my bowl
I ain't foolin'
I want some - yeah - in my bowl.



Buck
Andy stroud



Buck

Youre a whole lot a man

Just take a look

At your great big hands

You know you can crush

Poor me in two

But gentle, oh so gentle

Are the things you do



I say I never have to worry

bout you goin out

There aint no other woman

Aint no need to doubt

So early to bed

And early to rise

I know just what youre thinkin

Bye the look in your eyes



I say buck

So sweet is your back

I like to wash you

And kiss you when youre wet

So hold me close

And squeeze me till I sigh

Please love me, honey

Till the day I die



I say buck

There aint no other man around

Get your lover gal

To calm right down

No question bout the way

I feel for you

So gentle, oh so gentle

Are the things you do

Oh so gentle, oh so gentle

Are the things you do

Oh so gentle, oh so gentle

Are the things you do

Goodness, Diane. You beat me to the punch (so to speak)

And just why is Cyracuz not here telling us all about the raft and Ra man?

Well, Yit. Here is a clue about Thor. (actually, my fingers are thor from typing)

http://www.greatdreams.com/thor.htm

I do recall when I read that book as a kid, that the guys on the raft saw some weird leviathan surface from the ocean, and that is what kept me reading.

Every time I'm away from Liza
Water come to me eye
Every time I'm away from Liza
Water come to me eye

Come back Liza, come back girl
Wipe the tear from me eye
Come back Liza, come back girl
Wipe the tear from me eye

I remember when love was new
Water come to me eye
There was one but now there's two
Water come to me eye

Come back Liza, come back girl
Wipe the tear from me eye
Come back Liza, come back girl
Wipe the tear from me eye

When the evening starts to fall
Water come to me eye
I need to hear my Liza's call
Water come to me eye

Come back Liza, come back girl
Wipe the tear from me eye
Come back Liza, come back girl
Wipe the tear from me eye

Standing there in the market place
Water come to me eye
Soon I'll feel her warm embrace
Water come to me eye

Come back Liza, come back girl
Wipe the tear from me eye
Come back Liza, come back girl
Wipe the tear from me eye

In the shadow I stand awhile
Water come to me eye
Soon I'll see my Liza's smile
Water come to me eye

Come back Liza, come back girl
Wipe the tear from me eye
Come back Liza, come back girl
Wipe the tear from me eye

Every time I'm away from Liza
Water come to me eye
Every time I'm away from Liza
Water come to me eye

Ok, edgar. So that must be Nina as well.

Tried to look through our library, folks, but still couldn't find Nina Never Knew by Matt Monroe. Our tenor sax player loved that song, and was shocked to find out that Matt was a Brit.

Hmmmm. Where is our Bean Town Bobby?

Come Back Liza is in the album Calypso, by H Belafonte.

and from the art world:

Once it was trash; now it's art

By Tripti Lahiri | Contributor to The Christian Science Monitor

GAIMÁN, ARGENTINA - On the banks of Argentina's Chubut River, under a vast expanse of Patagonian sky, sits the town of Gaimán. Welsh immigrants settled the area in the late 1800s, and it is GAMános Gaelic flavor, visible most prominently in the presence of numerous Welsh teahouses, which have long been its primary draw for tourists.
But the town also offers visitors an unexpected chance to see the Taj Mohel, cavorting dolphins, and a very amiable-looking southern right whale.



ARTISTIC RECYCLING: For 25 years, an Argentine retiree has recycled trash into folk art as diverse as the Taj Mohel and a Volkswagen Beetle.
Dript Lahar

http://www.csmonitor.com/2005/0518/p15s01-trgn.html

and that's the rest of the story.

It's quiet here for the moment, and as I watched the evening descend, and saw the water from the sprinkler system shoot fountains into the muggy air, I thought about another fountain. That of Ponce de Leon and his search for yesterday.

Well, my goodness, edgar. How was I to know that. I was just getting ready to wax philosophical.

ever read Dr. Heidegger's Experiment?

"Yes, friends, ye are old again," said Dr. Heidegger, "and lo! the Water of Youth is all lavished on the ground. Well--I bemoan it not; for if the fountain gushed at my very doorstep, I would not stoop to bathe my lips in it--no, though its delirium were for years instead of moments. Such is the lesson ye have taught me!"

But the doctor's four friends had taught no such lesson to themselves. They resolved forthwith to make a pilgrimage to Florida, and quaff at morning, noon, and night, from the Fountain of Youth.

That time of night again, listeners.

well i don't know about any fountain of youth

but here's alice cooper to sing about the department of youth

Department Of Youth
Alice Cooper

We're in trouble all the time
You read about us all in the papers
We walk around and bump into walls - a blind delegation
And we ain't afraid of high power
We're bullet proof
And we've never heard of Eisenhower
Missile power, justice or truth

We're the Department of Youth
Your new Department of Youth
We're the Department of Youth
Just me and youth

We talk about this whole stupid world
And still come out laughing
We never make any sense
But hell that never mattered
But we'll make it through our blackest hour
We're living proof
And we've never heard of Billy Sunday
Damon Runyon, manners or couth

We're the Department of Youth
Your new Department of Youth
We're the Department of Youth
Just me and youth

We're the Department of Youth
The new Department of Youth
We're the Department of Youth
We've got the power
We're the Department of Youth
We've got the power
And who gave it to you?
(Donny Osmond!)
What?!

ah, dj. What a delight to see Alice Cooper chastising the night.

Only Women Bleed

Man got his woman to take his seed he got the power oh she got the need
She spends her life through pleasing up her man she feeds him dinner or anything she can
She cries alone at night too often he smokes and drinks and don't come home at all
Only women bleed only women bleed only women bleed
Man makes your hair grey he's your life's mistake all you're really looking for's an even break
He lies right at you you now hate this game he slaps you once in a while and you live and love in pain
She cries alone at night too often he smokes and drinks and don't come home at all ooh
Only women bleed only women bleed only women bleed only women bleed
Only women bleed only women bleed only women bleed
Man got his woman to take his seed he got the power oh she got the need
She spends her life through pleasing up her man she feeds him dinner or anything she can
She cries alone at night too often he smokes and drinks and don't come home at all
Only women bleed only women bleed only women bleed
Black eyes all of the time don't spend a dime clean up this grime
And you there down on your knees begging me please come watch me bleed
Only women bleed only women bleed only women bleed only women bleed
Only women bleed only women bleed only women bleed

Guilty
Alice Cooper

Just tried to have fun
raised hell and then some
I'm a dirt-talkin', beer drinkin', woman chasin' minister's son
Slap on the make-up
and blast out the music
Wake up the neighbors with a roar like a teenage heavy metal elephant gun

If you call that guilty then that's what I am
I'm guilty
I'm guilty

I like driving too fast
Love going too far
It seems the law's on my ass every time I stick it out of the door

If you call that guilty then that's what I am
I'm guilty
I'm guilty

Bad boy on a summer night
When the heat makes me mean and I wanna fight
With my pedal to the metal
And I do what I want to do
Bad girls make me feel all right
When it's hot and they start screaming in the night
Golly gee, it's wrong to be so guilty

I'm guilty
Guilty
I'm guilty

My conscience is on vacation in acute degeneration
Willpower has sunk to all-time low

If you call that guilty well I guess I am
I'm guilty
I'm guilty
If you call that guilty then that's what I am
I'm guilty, I'm guilty, I'm guilty, I'm guilty
I'm guilty, I'm guilty, I'm guilty, I'm guilty
Well I'm guilty
Yeah I'm guilty
I don't care
I'm guilty
I think I've been framed anyway
They said I'm guilty
I'm guilty
They're guilty and everyone is guilty

Goodness. Is Alice Cooper a fitting song for Morpheus and sleep? No way.

Sweet sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care.

Guilty, dj.

Off to Barrie's Neverland with tinker bell for a guiding light--Goodnight.

Hypnos, Greek god of sleep, and his brother, Thanatos, god of death, as painted
by John William Waterhouse (1849-1917). Hypnos was the father of Morpheus


Morphine was first isolated by Friedrich Wilhelm Sertürner in 1805. Sertürner named his discovery after Morpheus, the Greek god of dreams. Morpheus is the son of Hypnos, the god of sleep. Morpheus has two brothers, Icelus and Phantasus. In Greek mythology, dreams were sent out to man passing through one of two gates: a gate of horn from which true dreams came; and a gate of ivory, from which passed dreams that were false. Icelus gave man dreams of birds or beasts. Phantasus gave man dreams of inanimate objects. Morpheus had the capacity to assume the form of any and every human being. His father Hypnos sent him out into the night to appear as a loved one in mortal dreams.

I can't climb into bed without a word of awe for that fantastic slide show, dj. I promise that I won't recite Thanatopsis, however.

Thank you, Canada. You are amazing

Tall Ships


They used to make them tall
Now there are no shipyards here at all
They used to dig for coal here
They used to scrape and crawl
Now there are no coalfields here at all
Chorus:
Steelmen miners shipwrights and sailors
Steelmen miners shipwrights and sailors
We'll never see their like again
No more workers
It's gone the way of all good things
They used to forge their steel there
They'd sweat through every pore
Now there are no steel works anymore
They used to land their catch here
The silver darlings run
Ah but now the fishing is all gone
Tall masts would sail from shipyards
"Pride of the Clyde" they'd say
Now all the ships have gone away

Leonard Cohen

The Guests

One by one, the guests arrive
The guests are coming through
The open-hearted many
The broken-hearted few
And no one knows where the night is going
And no one knows why the wine is flowing
Oh love I need you
I need you
I need you
I need you
Oh . . . I need you now

And those who dance, begin to dance
Those who weep begin
And 'Welcome, welcome' cries a voice
'Let all my guests come in.'

And no one knows where the night is going ...

And all go stumbling through that house
in lonely secrecy
Saying 'Do reveal yourself'
or 'Why has thou forsaken me'

And no one knows where the night is going ...

All at once the torches flare
The inner door flies open
One by one they enter there
In every style of passion

And no one knows where the night is going ...

And here they take their sweet repast
While house and grounds dissolve
And one by one the guests are cast
Beyond the garden wall

And no one knows where the night is going ...

Those who dance, begin to dance
Those who weep begin
Those who earnestly are lost
Are lost and lost again

And no one knows where the night is going ...

One by the guests arrive
The guests are coming through
The broken-hearted many
The open-hearted few

And no one knows where the night is going ...

Good morning, WA2K radio.

The light is seeping through the blinds and I paused for a moment to watch a land turtle creep slowly across the road and and edge it's way into the St. Augustine grass. Then I saw it--the setting moon, which is quite unusual, I am given to understand. Beautiful, it was, and full reflecting a paler light as it worked its way to the west.

edgar, I enjoyed reading the "Tall Ships" and yes, so many crafts have disappeared, a victim of so called progress. Thanks, Texas.

"...and no one knows where the night is going...." nice line, edgar.

Interesting new item:

LONDON (AFP) - Britain is suffering a sense of humour failure, with laughter levels three times lower now than 50 years ago and nearly half of all adults unable to enjoy at least one big guffaw a day, research showed.



Money worries, relationship woes and even political concerns were among the reasons given for the collection of grim faces, according to the data, collected for the cruise company Ocean Village.

"Laughter is an essential ingredient of a healthy, happy life and is one of the most effective and immediate antidotes to stress and tension -- it really is the best medicine," said Amanda Bate from Ocean Village.

"The findings of this study show a worrying trend towards glumness. In the 1950s we laughed for an average of 18 minutes daily but this has dropped to just six minutes per day," she said.

Morning misery is rife, with almost half of Britons -- some 45 percent -- admitting they frequently wallowed in gloom until lunchtime.

Around 16 million adults, totalling 40 percent, said they failed to muster even one proper belly laugh in an average day.

It is not all sulking and moodiness, however, as the research found that single women aged 18 to 24 in the northern city of Manchester were the happiest people in the country.

In addition, Bristol, in western England, was named the most cheerful place for couples aged 25 to 34.

Factors such as weather, time of day and age, were all cited as being able to spark the blues.

July and August were the happiest months of the year according to three out of four people quizzed, with January the most miserable.

The study was carried out by ICM Research on behalf of Ocean Village who interviewed a random selection of 1,000 adults aged 18 or over.


Hey, McTag. Did you and smorgs laugh today?