Downhome and Blue

The mockingbird sitting out in the oak tree
Is trying his whole repertoire out on me:
from bluebird to chickadee,
freight train to snake in the grass.

The afternoon’s fading slow into the night
casting the back porch in dappled sunlight,
where substance and shadow each
dance while the moments go past.

Break out your banjo, that old mandolin;
I’ll pull out my guitar and count us all in.
We’ll start with some old ones
I’m sure we all know half way through.
Add in that fiddle and that tambourine;
settle in mellow. You know what I mean.
Just it flow, let it go for an hour or two…
play me some downhome and blue.

Pour you some coffee, or fresh lemonade;
find you a comfortable spot in the shade.
There’s plenty of room on the porch
if everyone wants to sprawl.

The cool of the evening won’t bother us none
once we’re warmed up and the music’s begun;
we’ll heat up the night some, all right,
having ourselves a ball.

Break out your washboard, that old pair of spoons;
I’ll pull out my dobro and start off a tune.
We’ll start with some old ones
that maybe our grandfathers’ knew.
Add in that fiddle, accordion too;
settle in mellow. You know what to do.
Just it flow, let it go for an hour or two…
play me some downhome and blue.

12 APR 2006

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