The Great Pumpkin Roll

The great pumpkin roll was a big uphill climb.
You’d think a town party was some kind of crime.
They said, ‘who needs this library’ and ‘who needs this field’
and ‘who needs these kids’ and ‘what’s the big deal’.

They went bumpin’ and bouncing’ from the center of town,
and one of them rolled on, all the way down,
past the old fire station, past Southampton Road,
into Ray Hickie’s  garden and it captured the gold.

What is a town when there’s no one around?
What is a life? But a great pumpkin roll.

The old antique cars they were parked on the side.
Across from the blacksmith with the doors open wide.
And everyone cheered when the squash started rolling.
The children went running and the old folks went strolling.

What is a town when there’s no one around?
What is a life? But a great pumpkin roll.

The trebuchet launches went higher and higher,
we cooked all the food and we lit the bonfire.
Then David Cole sang some Hank Williams songs
and everyone joined on the parsonage lawn
and we sang to the memories and when it got cold,
we sang to the future and the great pumpkin roll.

What is a town when there’s no one around?
What is a life? But a great pumpkin roll.

 

Public Library

If I were a poor man, wouldn’t I like to see?
A big old house full of big ideas, and all of it for free.
Public Library.

If I were a little girl, living in this town,
wouldn’t I want the great big world laying all around.
At the Public Library.

Children, babies, moms and dads,
who will say that you can’t have
every last word you need
in Ben Franklin’s memory.
Conceived in love an liberty
a penny save and happily.
At the Public Library.

I heard about a millionaire
reading in a comfy chair.
Taking in the public air, taking in the scene.
At the Public Library.

Now if I had a lot of dough.
I could set myself at home.
Interactive Amazon, cable TV always on,
all alone a paragon, emperor of my little pond or
I could join the trundling crowd and keep trundling on…
At the Public Library.

 

You Just Can’t Kill A Good Idea

You Just Can’t Kill A Good Idea,
listen to this story over here:
Moses told Pharaoh the time had come.
Pharaoh thought not but he was wrong
and freedom’s never heard the final gong.

You Just Can’t Kill A Good Idea.
Something from the past will make that clear.
A lot of smart guys made a revolution.
Wrote it all up in the constitution and
that thing still looks out for everyone.

You Just Can’t Kill A Good Idea.
Let me tell you about our local seer.
He said, “we killed it once and we’ll kill it again”
but if it was dead then tell me when,
and just how it came back to life, Amen.

You Just Can’t Kill A Good Idea.
I can help you get this thing in gear.
If you killed it once then it must be dead,
so why would you have to kill it again?
Maybe that old thing’s just idling.

You Just Can’t Kill A Good Idea.
Not with lies or hate or fear.
When you throw one and the state throws two,
seems like there’s nothing else to do
but grab that pile of money and say thank you!

You Just Can’t Kill A Good Idea.
It just keeps coming round year after year.
Like a lucky dime, or a great good time,
a taste sublime, or an easy rhyme,
a lone train whistle down the line,
a Sunday dinner that’s just so fine,
help from strangers sweet and kind,
keeping all good things in mind….

 

Farming On Mars

Donny jumped up on the big stone steps,
through the heavy doors where the books were kept.
Walked right over to the fiction shelf, the fiction shelf.

He was looking for a faraway place
maybe off planet maybe outer space
his vision settled on the letter M.

In came Lilly with her sun hat on
dirt in her nails from the mud in the pond,
she was looking for some farming help, farming help.

Lilly let her fingers find the fish farm books,
stared at the titles till she felt the hook,
she pulled one down it’s called ‘Farming On Mars’.

Now this library was short on space,
when Donny looked up there was Lilly’s face;
and he was holding the chronicles, the chronicles.

They went outside by the flower beds.
They went outside and they sat and read.
Martian soil and Earthly toil.

And it all made sense on the library lawn
cause Lilly was ten and so was Don.
And it was June and the sun shined on.

 

In A Quiet Room

In a quiet room, bombs are exploding,
thieves have taken over and set the city glowing.
Mobs are in the streets, prison doors are open.
In this quiet room.

In these big old chair, murder in the air.
Ghosts are pointing fingers at the killer on the stair.
The king is telling secrets, to be or not to be.
In this quiet room.

In this paper sanctuary there is history on the walls.
Piled to the ceiling and running down the halls.
Spilling down the stairs outside and calling to us all.

Underneath the floorboards and laying like a corpse,
a heavy watch is ticking like the pounding of a heart.
Like the galloping of a dark horse, on a moonless night.
In this quiet room.

Whispering in the corners at the turning of a page,
dusty volumes once again pulled open, hopeful voices
from the age of reason and of sanity, imagining the light.
On this quiet night.

In this paper sanctuary there is history on the walls.
Piled to the ceiling and running down the halls.
Spilling down the stairs outside and calling to us all.

 

L.I.B.R.A.R.Y.

L.I.B.R.A.R.Y. dewey decimal system,
L.I.B.R.A.R.Y., DVDs and fiction.
VHS the very best,happy thoughts or scary.
Read aloud or by yourself, visit the library.

L.I.B.R.A.R.Y. story time and playhouse.
L.I.B.R.A.R.Y. cats and dogs and big eyed cows.
Stepping stones you’re not alone, big fat dictionary.
Arts and crafts and hand made poems, inside the library.

L.I.B.R.A.R.Y. beds of beautiful flowers.
L.I.B.R.A.R.Y. something that’s all ours.
Walk right in and they’ll say ‘Hi’ library Lyn and Hillary.
L.I.B.R.A.R.Y. Westhampton library.

 

That’s How I Found Love

Between the Os and Qs in stack eleven,
way up high at the end of shelf seven, was a
little blue book of photographs, and
each one with an epitaph.
‘Tiny lived for a walk in the park’ and
‘May Boxer never be afraid of the dark’ and
‘Please remember my friend Clark’ and
‘That’s how I found love’.

Every little picture was a ray of light from somewhere.
And every little book calls out to someone.

So I settled right down in a comfy, red chair,
wondering just why I would care,
about these long lost cats and dogs
that someone bothered to catalogue.
Calicos look all the same
I guess that’s why we give them names.
Beagles, Greyhounds they’ve all got claims, and
that’s how I found love.

‘Bless this silly Pekinese’ and
‘Happy sure liked cheddar cheese’ and
many, many, more like these and
that’s how I found love.

Hours later or so it seemed I turned the final pages,
and there I saw this picture and these phrases.

It was an old black cat with just three legs
‘Merlin’ was what his tag read and
on the opposite page it said,
‘That’s how I found love’ and it said,
‘This cat found me all alone and this cat
never judged my soul and
this cat found a life with me and
that’s how I found love.
That’s how I found love.’

 

From My House

From my house I can here water singing.,
when rain hits the Manhan’s little finger.
And I can hear riders learning in circles,
in the pen out behind Jopai island.

That’s how is. That’s how it is.
in a small, quiet town.
That’s how is. That’s how it is.
Little things make a big sound.

From my house I canned see the corn grow
in fields round the swamp down below.
I hear tractors and I watch the bales
of hay being trucked up the road.

Up the road to a barn not far from
the kennel of dogs by the town dump.
They yelp on all through the nigth,
the barking I hear from my house some.

That’s how is. That’s how it is.
in a small, quiet town.
That’s how is. That’s how it is.
Little things make a big sound.

From my house I can walk up the road
to an island that everyone owns.
This tiny, green piece with three benches for seats,
a fountain, a flag and some stones.

These stones have the names of my neighbors and friends
who fought in the wars of the nation.
Now there must be some way, how hard can it be?
For this town to grow by just two acres.

That’s how is. That’s how it is.
in a small, quiet town.
That’s how is. That’s how it is.
Little things make a big sound.

 

Train Of Thought

Get on this train, it’s leaving town
and it’s going all the way out
and going all the way around.
Pack up your, mind all that you’ve been taught.
Get on this train, it’s a train of thought.

When you get to the station, you get your car.
You find your first book, it’ll take you far.
‘Cause it’ll take you on, on down the track,
of new ideas and you won’t come back.

CHORUS

A new idea, is like a friend.
It’s got a point of view, got its’ own lens.
And like a friend you can share that sight,
you can feel the wind, and fly that kite.

CHORUS

Around the bend, is a waterfall,
with a deep blue pool and a Siren’s call,
or city lights, throwing out a beam
in a foreign land, that you’ve never seen.

You can sit at home and wait for the call.
Like someone knows your number
or your name at all.
Or you can take a look outside.
From another mind, from another time.

CHORUS