Used w/ permission: Green Burial Council
Carolina Memorial Sanctuary, Mills River, NC. Courtesy of Caroline Yongue
Listen To Our CD
It’s Natural: Arkansas Musicians Sing About Livin’ & Dyin’
Cover text:
Humans buried their deceased kinfolk and comrades directly into the Earth for millennia, up until the last 150 years. Nowadays, more and more of us yearn to be interred in the living soils of our planet by families and friends.
The Natural State Burial Association is a tax-exempt non-profit organization formed in 2015 to create and manage Arkansas’ first modern green cemetery. As an accessible nature preserve with trails and gathering spots, the burial grounds are also a peaceful healing place for the living.
NSBA will offer educational opportunities and support to the public, including home funeral planning and establishing family cemeteries.
By purchasing this CD you are helping us achieve our mission while conserving wildlife habitat. We invite you to become a member and keep abreast of events and opportunities in the coming seasons. Thank You!!
Produced by: Walter Schmidt
Cover Photos by: Terry Stanfill
Sound Engineered by: Kelly Mulhollan
Design by: Tom Dureka
Special Thanks to: Vickie Kelley
Track Titles/Contributing Artists
Walter Schmidt
Walter grew up in Fargo, ND and spent his teenage summers working on the family farm. In the evenings his uncle taught him to play guitar and his grandmother would play songs from the Methodist Hymnal on the piano. He learned to fingerpick when the great folk music scare of the the 1960’s (Dave Van Ronk’s phrase) swept the nation and played bad rock ‘n roll when the British invaded. He started writing songs.
One morning in January, 1968, he was driving to a college class, it was 30 degrees below zero and the heater in his Studebaker Silverhawk wasn’t working. He vowed he would never spend another winter in North Dakota. He joined the Air Force. A lot of interesting things happened after that.
NATURAL STATE
Sooner or later, we’re all dead on arrival,
It’s the way of all flesh you know.
Death comes too soon or it comes too late,
Or maybe you’re ready to go.
But we all make that rendezvous
We all meet our fate
As for me, I want to be,
Buried in a natural state.
So wrap me in in a shroud and lower me down
Or build a simple wooden casket and put it in the ground
Cover me up with Arkansas dirt, that would be just great.
Let me be buried in a natural state.
I want to be buried in a natural state.
Arkansas is the Natural State,
Here’s one more reason why:
You’ll be so serene if you’re going green
When it’s your time to die.
When it all comes down to dust,
What’s a body worth?
Make my cemetery a sanctuary
When I surrender to the earth.
Aaron Smith and The Coal Biters
Aaron Smith and The Coal Biters is an Arkansas Ozarks band that embraces its roots . . . the band members love their hometown, the Buffalo National River that flows nearby, and all the folk and pioneer history that flows through these ancient hills.
Their original songs, written by front-man Aaron Smith, draw from folk, roots, and Americana musical styles to ponder the mysteries and joys of human existence in today’s world. It’s not often that you see three generations of musicians who have found a common groove– but the Coal Biters have found one, and they love sharing their music and ponderings with their fans.
The river Jordan and Styx have both been used to symbolize the passage from one life to the next. In this song, the Mississippi takes that role, carrying departed souls into an ocean of lost loved ones.
MISSISSIPPI
Bury me in a field by a stream,
Anywhere to the east of the Great Divide.
And as my bones return to the waters,
I will join the ocean’s mother.
Oh, mighty Mississippi, carry me….
We get born and the clock starts tickin’
All the moments start slippin’ away.
Seconds arrive and wave goodbye,
Just like yesterday.
We can’t hold onto our youth,
Can’t even hold onto our age.
The Mississippi comes and sweeps us off the page.
I was taught in Sunday school
That the spirit of a man can never die.
And there’s a sea of silent souls just blinking
On the other side.
What I’d give for just a hint
Of a whisper from that beautiful shore.
Mississippi, when you take me,
I’m afraid I’ll be no more…
I’m afraid I’ll be no more.
Bury me in a field by a stream,
Anywhere to the east of the Great Divide.
And as my bones return to the waters,
I will join the ocean’s mother.
Oh, mighty Mississippi, carry me home.
You won’t lose a single lamb from your
Hand is what the scriptures say.
Could you help my unbelief?
Because I’m running low on faith.
I’ve never had a trusting heart,
Never made much time to pray,
And my mind is filled with echoes of oblivion…
Don’t you bury me in Egypt,
Don’t you leave me in these sands–
Because I know that you are bound for fairer lands.
I’ve got nowwehere else to turn,
No other grace on which to stand,
Like my mother’s and my fathers,
The saints and sinners who’ve gone before
To that sweet by and by, on that beautiful shore….
Bury me in a field by a stream,
Anywhere to the east of the Great Divide.
And as my bones return to the waters,
I will join the ocean’s mother.
Oh, mighty Mississippi, carry me home…to the sea.
Still on the Hill
Donna Stjerna and Kelly Mulhollan of Still on the Hill with a piece from the Stilley collection
Still on the Hill is a national and international touring group from Arkansas that has been described as “Ambassadors of the Ozarks” for the work they do to preserve a rich culture that is quickly disappearing.
Kelly & Donna of Still on the Hill are award winning ‘story telling-song writers’. Different than most singer-songwriters, this dynamic duo embellishes their songs with a host of unique instruments from the hills they call home. Many of these were hand-made by old-timers and have amazing stories that go with them.
I SAW YOU THERE
Standing ‘neath the willow tree,
Soaked to the bone,
I was weeping tears of joy
That I was not alone,
I felt you there,
Pouring down like diamonds,
Praying like diamonds.
Well, the rain finally stopped,
And the crickets started singing.
I heard you there, I heard you there.
Oh, I stayed up all night
To watch the morning light,
I saw you there, ’twas like a prayer.
Out there on the garden
On each and every leaf,
There were millions of dewdrops
There beneath my feet.
I felt you there,
Shining down like diamonds,
Glistening like diamonds.
I felt you there.
Shining down like diamonds,
Glistening like diamonds.
Oh, you were there.
Jack Williams
Jack Williams
The music of Jack Williams, rooted in his native South Carolina, was shaped by a 54-year career of playing folk, rock, jazz, R&B, classical and the popular music of the 30s, 40s and 50s. He is counted among the most dynamic performers on today’s “folk” circuit – “…one of the most enlightened and entertaining performers I’ve ever encountered”, said Dave Humphreys of Two-Way Street Coffeehouse in Downer’s Grove, IL. Jack is considered a “musician’s musician”, an uncommonly unique guitarist, a writer of vivid songs with a strong sense of place, and a storyteller in an old Southern tradition who further illustrates each tale with his guitar. Rich Warren of WFMT Chicago’s The Midnight Special said, “His artistry is nothing short of amazing”. Vic Heyman, in SING OUT!, wrote, “He is one of the strongest guitar players in contemporary folk.”
Avoiding the compromises of the commercial music industry during his 50+-year professional career, Jack prefers touring under the radar, playing concerts, large and small, week in and week out, from the sheer love of music and performing. Playing for more than 50 house concerts each year, Jack enjoys the intimacy of that venue most of all, with a more personal connection to his listeners. Jack is a sought-after artist on all contemporary acoustic music stages, from coffeehouses and festivals to music halls and city arts stages. From acclaimed appearances at the Newport, Boston, Philadelphia, Kerrville, New Bedford SummerFest Folk Festivals, his musicianship, songs, stories and commanding presence have established him as an uncommonly inspiring and influential performer.
Jack frequently shares his musical knowledge with others. In addition to leading numerous workshops as he tours the country, he has been on the staff of The Swannanoa Gathering in NC, Lamb’s Songwriter Retreat in MI, The Folk Project in NJ, WUMB’s Summer Acoustic Music Week in NH, and co-hosts a semi-annual Music Workshop Weekend near his home in the Ozarks.
DADDY’S HEAVEN
A billy-goat was feeling fine,
Ate six red shirts from off the line.
Sal took a stick and broke his back,
And tied him to the railroad track.
‘Long came a freight six hours late,
It was so sad, drove William mad.
He gave a shreek of roarin’ pain,
Coughed up the shirts and flagged the train.
My daddy died and went to hell,
But found a way to live so well,
That the folks in heaven, dull and bored,
All bade farewell to their host, the Lord.
They all flew south to that warmer land,
To meet the southern gentleman.
God looked around the empty streets,
Said “Where in hell can they all be?”
He saw his angels trading lies
With my old man ‘neath hell’s red skies.
They looked so peaceful that God did go,
To join that merry gang below.
Now if you fear eternity
The moral of this tale must be,
For those who live true fair and well,
There’s only heaven, there is no hell.
For those who live true fair and well,
There’s only heaven, there is no hell.
Clarke Buehling
Clarke Buehling is widely recognized for his interpretations of late 19th Century, classic finger-style banjo, and is in the forefront of the recent resurgence of interest in the earlier minstrel banjo style. Much of his material is based around his extensive collection of 19th Century banjo and mandolin instruction books and sheet music.
Clarke teaches banjo, fiddle, mandolin and guitar in Fayetteville, Arkansas.
TAKE ME HOME
Take me home to the place where I first saw the light
To that sweet sunny south take me home
Where the mockingbird sings me to sleep every night
Oh why was I tempted to roam
I think with regret of the dear ones I left
Of the warm hearts that sheltered me there
Of wife and of children of whom I’m bereft
Of the old place again do I sigh
Take me back to the place where my little ones sleep
Where poor massa lies buried close by
O’er the graves of my loved ones I long for to weep
and rest there among them when I die
Take me back to the place where the orange trees grow
To my cot in the evergreen shade
Where the flowers from the river’s green margins did grow
And spread their sweet scent through the glade
The path to our cottage they say has grown green
And the place is quite lonely around
I know that the smiles and the forms I once knew
Now lie ‘neath the cold mossy ground
Take me back to the place where my little ones sleep
Where poor massa lies buried close by
O’er the graves of my loved ones I long for to weep
and rest there among them when I die
Take me home let me see what is left that I know
Could it be that the old house is gone
Dear friends from my childhood indeed must be few
And I must lament all alone
But yet I return to the place of my birth
Where the children have played ‘round the door
Where they gathered wild blossoms that grew ‘round the path
Twill echo their footsteps no more
Take me home to the place where my little ones sleep
Where poor massa lies buried close by
O’er the graves of my loved ones I long for to weep
and rest there among them when I die
Allison Williams
Allison Williams
A native of the Arkansas Ozarks, Allison got her start as a punk rock musician before rediscovering her musical roots. Several years in the mountains of North Carolina educated her in Appalachian banjo techniques, especially the fast, distinctive styles of Hobart Smith and Wade Ward.
In 2005 she formed the Forge Mountain Diggers, a hard-driving oldtime band, with Freight Hoppers fiddler David Bass. The Diggers toured internationally for three years, sharing stages with Rhonda Vincent, Donna the Buffalo, and many other giants of the new roots music scene.
Allison Williams’ solo CD ” Give Me the Roses” came out in autumn of 2008, featuring driving arrangements of traditional old-time songs, as well as eclectic originals, woven together by a talented backing band of rising stars: alumni of the Carolina Chocolate Drops, Old Crow Medicine Show, and the Wiyos, among others.
Since then she has toured internationally, playing to a sold-out Barbican Hall in London, as part of the BBC’s “Folk America” special, and backing folk legend Michelle Shocked on her 2010 East Coast tour.
Making her home again in the Ozark mountains, Allison, when not on the road with her Hot Ash String Band, does live and studio sound, works with Southern folklore, and plays swing bass as much as possible.
Allison owns and operates May Bell Music in Fayetteville, offering vintage instruments, repairs, lessons focusing on traditional music styles, and offering workshops, concerts, jam sessions, and other events regularly.
WILLOW GARDENS
Down in the willow garden where me and my true love did meet
There we sat a-courting my love fell off to sleep
I had a bottle of red, red wine which my true love did not know
And there I poisoned that dear little girl down by the banks below
I drew my dagger through her which was a bloody knife
I tossed her in the river which was an dreadful sight
My father often told me that money would set me free
If I would murder that dear little miss whose name was Rose Connelly
Now he sits by his garden gate a wiping his tear-brimmed eyes
Mourning for his only son out on the scaffold high
My race is run beneath the sun, hell is waiting for me
For I did murder that dear little girl whose name was Rose Connelly
Allison Williams
Emily Kaitz has been writing songs for 50 years. She has toured nationally and put out at least 10 CDs on her own label, Pingleblobber. Lately she is less interested in traveling and promoting her music career, but continues to play in at least 3 bands in Northwest Arkansas including the versatile trio Outside The Lines. Emily has been cross-dressing for years and thinks it is unfair that men are stigmatized when they do this, while women aren’t. “When I’m Dead, Dress Me in Drag” was written in 1994 and included in her CD “Terminally Trendy,” available at cdbaby.com along with her other CDs.
“WHEN I’M DEAD, DRESS ME IN DRAG”
My best friend Merle gave up the ghost last week and died
It didn’t happen sudden but it shook me up inside
His lawyer handed me a sealed note, I read it with a lump in my throat
and I couldn’t believe it no matter how hard I tried.
It said “I’m writing these words from my death bed all alone.
I can feel myself fading; in a few hours, I’ll be gone.
You were the friend who treated me best, so please carry out my last request
It’s gonna sound a little strange but I just gotta have it done.”
(chorus) When I’m dead, dress me in drag and then you can cry
for a man who wasted his whole life living a lie
Before you bury me deep in the ground lay me out in my casket in a strapless satin gown,
when I’m dead, dress me in drag and then you can cry.
A good woman loved me and it hurts me now to have to say
How when she’d leave the house, I’d try on her lingerie
My sweet innocent bride never knew that her man had a feminine side
or that the cleaning woman wasn’t who was stealing her Oil of Olay.
(chorus) So when I’m dead, dress me in drag and then you can cry
for a man who wasted his whole life living a lie
I never had the guts to spill my secret or the cash for the hormone treatments that I needed
when I’m dead, dress me in drag, and then you can cry.
So if you’re still reading this, I guess you really were my friend.
Don’t make my mistake and leave things to the bitter end
If you have a secret desire let it come out in the open before you expire
That’s the way I’m gonna live if I ever come around again.
(chorus) But now I’m dead, so dress me in drag and then you can cry
for a man who wasted his whole life living a lie
And if I get another chance in this world, I hope the lord will see fit to send me back as a girl
I sure as hell had me a rough time being a guy.
When I’m dead, dress me in drag and then you can cry.
Peter Lippincott
Peter Lippincott, an Arkansas Living Treasure in pottery, has re-engaged his song-writing brain for the last decade. He has produced 2 CDs of his songs and is working on a third. His songs have won the song writing competition at Winfest, Winfield, KS, twice and come runner up another two times. He is a multi-instrumentalist. His fiddle tune “Snake River Reel” written 35 years ago is played worldwide. That tune and twelve more are presented on another self-produced CD.
His songs are quite varied in topic and musical style. He draws his main inspiration from traditional forms, which he has enjoyed, played and studied for over 50 years.
““Marigold” is a song from my college days. Marigold is the alias I gave a female friend from that time. The song reflects my fears for her future. “Marigold” appeared originally on a compilation LP from 1970 and reappears on my CD entitled “Brain Freeze”, 2013.”
MARIGOLD
La, Marigold, Di-da, Marigold
You look different to me now
The sun and I have wanted to try
To caress you envelope you somehow
The King, Marigold, is mean, Marigold
All cower like dogs as he makes rounds
And all his men will come to claim you
And they will take you down
The clown, Marigold, gets down, Marigold
From his big white stallion and faces you
Your head dear maiden with fruit full laden
Will part as his broadsword passes through
The band, Marigold, will stand, bold Marigold
In line at his right hand to catch a view
Sweet wine to tase of your lips aw but in such haste
They’ve all come to do homage to you
You’re pleased, Marigold, but squeezed, Marigold
Of all honest emotions you contain
Some rest, rapport, and liquid to restore
Some measure of the bloom, but not the same
So la, Marigold, di-da, Marigold
To be a flower in the king’s bouquet
But like all flowers do, you certainly must wither too
Without a tear you will be thrown away
The Cate Brothers
Fayetteville favorites The Cate Brothers are the singer-songwriter-musician duo of Earl and Ernest (Ernie) Cate (born December 26, 1942), twin brothers from Fayetteville, Arkansas. In the mid-1960s they became performers of country soul music at clubs and dances in Arkansas and elsewhere in the mid-South. Both brothers are singers, with Earl playing guitar and Ernie playing piano. They were recording artists during the mid- to late 1970s and again from the mid-1990s through the first decade of the 2000s. The band was inducted into the Arkansas Music Hall of Fame in 2015.
“This Side of Heaven,” which was written by Ernie and Earl after the deaths of Earl’s wife, Angela, and longtime bandmate William “Porky” Hill.
Earl now plays with the Fayetteville-based quartet, “Earl and Them”.
THIS SIDE OF HEAVEN
I must have cried a sea of tears;
My emotions have run dry.
If I could live a thousand years
I would still wonder why.
It does no good to second guess,
Another time, another place.
At so much pain and emptiness
Only time can erase.
I’m reaching out for my Father’s hands.
This side of Heaven, it’s hard to understand.
Must be a reason, is it part of the plan?
Is it part of the plan, this side of Heaven?
We make plans and promises
But there’s no getting peace.
One shining light here on earth
Is now a star in eternity.
Some day we’ll meet beyond the sun
Where a million years are the same as one.
But until then, may His will be done,
May His will be done, this side of Heaven.
Jori Costello
Singer, songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, music teacher, artist, actress, dance DJ, radio host, and festival emcee. In her 3rd decade of performing, Jori is best known for her work in Big Bad Gina and continues to collaborate with chakra rocker, Ginger Doss, as well as Angela “Oxygen” Edge in their funky, punky duo, Jorian Oxygen.
“The Answer is Yes” is written for my beloved, lifelong friend, Pat Patton (Patsy) who passed away suddenly after a massive heart attack in Oct. 2015. Through much grief and soul searching, I believe I have been able to “hear” and sense her around and within me. This song represents my process and my searching for that communication and connection.
“THE ANSWER IS YES”
Through the crack in the mirror
I can see into worlds I almost know
My reflection is real
Yet still unrevealed is my searching soul
Broken record in my brain
Repeating the refrain, “why did you go?”
When I reach out with my mind
Can I recognize replies in the wind that blows?
Chorus:
Are you there my love….
Are you there my love….
Are you there my love….
Are you there………my love
Empty suitcase in the hall
Won’t be that way for long, then I’m out the door
In the closet I leave
All the other personas I’ve tried before
The questions still apply
And still I wonder why I can’t hear from you
You taught me to be free, to be kind and to succeed,
And to myself be true
Chorus
John Two-Hawks
John Two-Hawks
A Grammy-nominated American performing and recording artist, John sings and plays multiple instruments. He is a veteran Native American Flute virtuoso and music visionary who has always set new trends and broken new ground in music genres. From collaborating on platinum selling music fusion projects which melded Native American flute and vocals with symphonic heavy metal, to contributing his music on Emmy award winning film scores which teamed native flute, voice and percussion with symphony orchestras and choirs, John has always enjoyed exploring the limits of what is possible in music composition and performance.
FOR GRACE
(Who was killed in the Sandy Hook school shooting)
You’re painting in heaven, sunsets of pink and tan-colored hues
Your mother’s arms are empty, as she cries for you
Lay em down, lay em down
For Grace
For love
Lay em down, lay em down
For Grace
For love
You’re creating a rainbow, brilliant across the sky
Hope as we are hurting we keep on asking why
Lay em down, lay em down
For Grace
For love
Lay em down, lay em down
For Grace
For love
Your child heart of innocence, of all that speaks and moves
Let’s pierce our souls in sadness as we search for brotherhood
Lay em down, lay em down
For justice, for peace
Lay em down, lay em down
For truth
For joy
Lay em down, lay em down
For Grace
For love
Lay em down, lay em down
For Grace
For love
Cathy (Catalina) Mendoza-Nájera
Cathy (Catalina) Mendoza-Nájera is a Mexican activist, poet and award-winning playwright who has lived in the United States since 1987 and Springdale since 2005. A survivor of domestic violence, for several years she provided support services at the La Casa Womens’ Shelter in Las Cruces, NM and led seminars on the subject for groups of battered women throughout New Mexico. She has two Bachelors degrees from New Mexico State University, one in Sociology and one in Languages and Linguistics, and has done advanced work in Sociolgy.
She has continued her activism since moving to Arkansas. She worked for the Sexual Assault Recovery and Prevention Agency from 2007 to 2012 and volunteered at the Circle of Life Hospice in Springdale for 7 years. She has volunteered at the Jones Center giving Spanish and meditation classes. She is currently on the Board of Directors of the Workers Justice Center, volunteers as an ESL, Basic Computer Skills and GED tutor, and is writing her autobiography.
“MI AMIGA LA MUERTA”
¿A dónde iremos? No tengo idea,
Pero sabemos que viene,
Y la vamos a acompañar.
Es una amiga temida
y mal querida. Es la Muerte.
Misteriosa, puntual e infalible,
Hay ocasiones que llega,
Cuando menos te la esperas, ineludible.
Acá se quedan riquezas,
Poder, amores y penas,
No recuerdas decepciones,
Ni te preocupan las deudas.
Entonces,
¿Por qué tememos la muerte?
Mi vida ha sido de servicio,
He cumplido el compromiso,
Yo estoy lista cuando quiera,
La espero con mansedumbre,
sea hoy o sea en un siglo.
Aquí dejas tu envoltorio,
otra herencia temporal,
Se acabaron los dolores,
Ya no hay preocupaciones
Se acabo la indecisión,
Entonces,
¿Por qué temer a la muerte?
Mi vida ha sido de servicio,
He cumplido el compromiso,
Yo estoy lista cuando quiera,
La espero con mansedumbre,
sea hoy o sea en un siglo.
Por eso Muerte, mi amiga,
Te espero con resignación,
Cuando toques a mi puerta,
Te daré la bienvenida,
Y te acompañaré . . . .
con sumisión.
DEATH, MY FRIEND
Where do we go? We have no idea.
We know that she will come
And we are destined to follow.
She is Death. A dreaded and unloved friend.
Mysterious, punctual, certain.
She comes when least expected, unavoidable.
Riches and power stay behind
Along with love and punishment.
We won’t remember disappointments
Or worry about our debts.
So then…why do we fear Death?
My life has been one of service,
My commitments met.
I am ready when she comes.
I await her humbly,
Today or in a hundred years.
Here we leave our wrappings
And other temporary legacies.
Gone are pain, precaution and indecision
So then…why do we fear Death?
My life has been one of service,
My commitments met.
I am ready when she comes.
I await her humbly,
Today or in a hundred years.
This is why, Death, my friend
I await you, yielding.
When you knock at my door
I will welcome you
And go with you quietly.
East of Zion
East of Zion is an acoustic, family band with deep roots in Ozark Mountain music. Pat Fultz is the lead vocalist and rhythm guitar player while her husband Mac Fultz is the lead guitarist and does vocals as well. Their nephew Nathan Miller plays mandolin and sings and cousin Jerry Hogan is on upright bass. Playing together now for over eight years, East of Zion continues an Ozark music tradition that is almost a century old.
MARY OF THE WILD MOOR
On a cold winter’s night
As the winds blew across the wild moor
Poor Mary came wandering home with her child
‘Til she came to her own father’s door
“Papa, oh Papa”, she cried
Come down and open the door
Or the child in my arms will perish and die
From the winds that blow across the wild moor
But the old man was deaf to her cries
And not a sound of her voice did he hear
For the watchdog did howl and the village bell tolled
And the winds blew across the wild moor
Oh, how the old man must have felt
When he came to the door the next morn’
And he found Mary dead but the child yet alive
Clutched close to his dead mother’s breast
In anguish, he hung his grey head
And the tears, down his cheeks, they did pour
When he saw how that night, she had perished and died
From the winds that blow across the wild moor.
Now the old man in grief pined away
And the babe to its mother went soon
And no one they say has lived there to this day
And the cottage is left to ruin
Now the villagers point out the place
Where the willow grows over the door
Saying there Mary died once a fair village bride
From the winds that blew across the wild moor
From the winds that blew across the wild moor
Dana Louise and the Glorious Birds
The daughter of Ezra Idlet of the Grammy-nominated Trout Fishing in America, Dana Louise is a new songstress astonishing audiences with her vibrant, melodic vocals, adept finger-picking and cool sound. Now touring her debut album, she is joined by the Glorious Birds — Adams Collins (vibraphone and 5-string banjo), Ezra Idlet and Keith Grimwood (Trout Fishing in America/guitar, percussion and bass). Drawing from jazz and bluegrass, carrying a contemporary beat, the sound is roots-rooted flung-into-the-future folk. Dana Louise & the Glorious Birds work to leave their audiences glowing with the magic music can bring: genuine human connection.
BETTER OFF DEAD
There’s a little town I know
And every ten or twenty years or so
People gather to dance and sing
And to do some heinous evil things
The village elders rise from their graves
The very sight of it is quite depraved
Rituals bring them back to life
So hide your children and hide your wife
chorus
Be careful out there, oh be careful out there
Be careful out there, you’d best beware
Without a care, you’ll end up in over your head
Be careful out there, oh be careful out there
Be careful out there, you’d best beware
If you wake up from this party you might be better off dead
There’s a drink of vile kind
Take a sip and open up your mind
Be careful if you drink more
Your heart and soul become an open door
They’ll step inside change what they will
The very thought of it just makes me ill
Believe my story, for it’s true
When you wake up you might not be you
chorus
The bonfire goes on for days
Reliving folklore through songs and plays
Ceremonies go on all night
But the important part’s a dreadful sight
Ones chosen to play the part
And they cut from them their still beating heart
It’s an honor or so they say
But I remember his eyes that day
chorus
Judi Neal
Judi has been playing music ever since her mother handed her a ukulele at the age of 8. Growing up in Hawaii was fertile ground for musical creativity since it was common for everyone to sing and play an instrument. She picked up guitar at 14, just when folk music was coming into its prime, and was heavily influenced by such artists as Joan Baez, Judy Collins, Bob Dylan, The Kingston Trio, Peter Paul and Mary, and Joni Mitchell.
While in college, Judi performed music as a way of helping to pay tuition bills and living costs. Later she formed an all-woman country band called Coyote that played clubs and fairs around Connecticut. More recently she has been playing in the Good Medicine duo with her husband Ellis Ralph and is the bass player in the Peter Lippincott band and in the all-woman band She’s Us.
She wrote her first song at the age of 15 and has been crafting songs ever since. Most of her songs are love songs, although some songs are more inspirational in nature. Her first CD is titled “The Journey” and features special guest artists Bill Staines and Stacy Phillips.
She has opened several times for Bill Staines. Bill opened for her at her CD release concert and they have performed a number of songs together at various venues. One of her previous bands opened for Dan Hicks & His Hot Licks.
Judi is passionate about music and the power it has to touch and heal people. She says, “Music is a shortcut to the Soul.”
SOUL TO KEEP
Emily, oh Emily, I see you on the shore
Watching for dear Jimmie, who left us for the war
You’ve been here for many-a-day, watching the briny deep
Hoping for his ship to see, I pray your soul to keep
Chorus:
Soul to keep, soul to keep, soul to keep, soul to keep
Jimmie was a fine young man, a fine young man was he
He loved his home, he loved the land, he loved his country
And Emily he’s loved ye well, he’s loved you strong and sweet
He promised he’d return to you, I pray your soul to keep
Oh Emily there was no time, there was no time to sing
Only time for promises and this tiny golden ring
No dancing on that day he left, and very little sleep
But Jimmie made a vow that day, I pray your soul to keep
Oh Emily is just a wisp of what she used to be
No more strength to stand her watch looking out to sea
One night the ghost of Jimmie came while Emily did sleep
He kissed her lips and took her hand, he took her soul to keep
Now Emily and Jimmie are on the heavenly shore
Where lovers stay together, and no one goes to war
Their sweet love is timeless, their sweet young love is deep
I wish that kind of love for you, I pray your soul to keep
© Judi Neal 2007
Dale Stokes
Dale Stokes is beginning to bring his music out of the bedroom and backyard after 30+ years working in education in small town schools where you have to watch what you say and where they know what time you went to bed last night. Growing up in Sherwood, Arkansas, before it was an “in town,” he’s seen the location of his greatest shot with a slingshot become the parking lot of a shopping center. He learned nothing stays the same, so you’d better pay attention to right now.
His songs come in a variety of styles and cover everything from grandkids and friends to the people he’s run into along the way. They reflect years of keeping his mouth shut and paying attention to both the obvious and obscure, and he hopes they paint a picture you can see and maybe even finish for yourself.
DON’T FORGET TO FEED THE CATS
Every song has got a purpose, or there’d be no reason to sit and hear it
Philosophical or crazy; a love song, a ballad, gospel truth or damn near it
Right now you’re probably wondering what’s gonna come out of the next few minutes
Sit back and kick your boots off, because the tale I’m gonna tell has got a lesson in it
It’s all about living right, despite your plight; Be responsible and live by the golden rule
There’s a little secret known by few; If you do you’ll make it through
Pay heed and don’t you be nobody’s fool; Don’t forget to feed the cats
Although they’re not exactly my idea of the perfect companion
There’s got to be a reason that they’re here; They’re one of god’s creations
Lots of people take them in and give them love and everything
Everything will be just fine if you fulfill your obligation; Don’t forget to feed the cats
Jimmy’s working at the drug store, working after school for a little cash
He’s pushing broom and toting boxes, cleaning up the backroom and hauling out the trash
One night Thurston came stumblin’ in for a visit after having him a snootfull
Boss tosses Jim the truck keys, Said “take him on home lay him down give his boots a pull.”
To the couch they slide across the floor; Starts at the door, Ends with a snore
Oh no, he don’t need a wakeup call
Old Thurston just needed a ride; Laid down and sighed, then he died
They found the body but they didn’t quite find it all;
Man you got to feed the cats…….
Although they’re not exactly my idea of the perfect companion
There’s got to be a reason that they’re here; They’re one of god’s creations
“Here lies Thurston” etched in stone: “At least what the cats didn’t care for”
So spread this tale and check those bowls and do your best to share more
And don’t forget to feed the cats.
Ellis Ralph
As a toddler, Ellis Ralph spent every waking and sleeping hour hearing the music from his older sister’s AM radio. Those were the days. Around age five, he was indelibly influenced by Anita B., the landlady and family friend downstairs who masterfully belted out songs over the sound of her lawnmower or her old Chevy pickup, making singing seem like . . . something normal people might do. By age eight, Ellis had sung to open several annual recitals where his older sister danced, making singing seem like . . . something predestined.
As a tweenager, he learned personally from the fabulous Louis Blue, a free spirited minstrel who was the spit and image of Woody Guthrie, that he could figure out just about ANYthing with only three amazing chords! Ellis maintained a life-long, part-time, secret-identity as a singer-songwriter, performing in closets or with various esoteric cults, using song to solve all of humanity’s intractable problems, such as romance, theology, and internal rhymes. Then, around the turn of the century, as the strain and stress of Y2K and the unrelenting responsibilities of adulthood started to become . . . old, Ellis felt called to come out, to acknowledge that he had always been a singer-songwriter trapped in the body of a workaholic, and to embrace: Fun.
THE MISSION
I awoke with a memory too real for a dream
after my infirmity finally totally overwhelmed me.
My loved ones were troubled when I did not respond.
When I could not move or speak to reassure them, I knew
I was already gone.
I rose up to the ceiling, ‘n’ looked back down to the room
where my beloved companions stood next to my body
in the grief and the gloom.
How I wanted to tell them I could see them down there!
I just gazed back with love, from somewhere above –
I couldn’t tell where.
I rose up through a tunnel with a bright flawless light at the end.
Peace and joy indescribable filled me completely within!
All my life in a moment I saw, and knew the meaning of;
the only part that was important
was the Love . . .
Then I had to return here — it was not yet my time —
but the mission I learned there is still clear in my mind:
to enjoy and experience, to spread and to share
the joy and the peace of the pure light and love
that live on Over There.
Death is an illusion – just a threshold we cross.
Let there be no confusion: we can never be lost.
Our world too small for fighting; our lives too short for strife.
Let us look for that light. Let us reach out in love
while we’re living this life.
© Ellis Ralph 2008
Jumpsuit Jamey
I was born in Stuttgart in 1958, and grew up poor on somebody else’s rice farm, playing in canals and powdery silt, swimming in soybeans in the back of bob trucks, and climbing over every square inch of combines, tractors, implements, barns, and mimosa trees like they were my own personal monkey bars, only needing emergency stitches occasionally. I left skid marks getting out of Stuttgart, though, coming to Fayetteville to go to college in the mid-70’s, which at that time was the greatest place to live in the history of the planet. But Sam Walton, Bill Clinton, John White, and their henchmen sprayed it with money and 2,4-D in the early 90’s, and it done grew itself to death. I dearly miss that 70’s Fayetteville and that 70’s Arkansas, and when I’m not too busy working or chasing butterflies, I often mourn its passing.
MILTON’S SONG
Now that your folks have all gone home
And I’m finally all alone
Sittin’ talkin’ to the stone
They put your name on
I ain’t believin’ that it’s true
That mound of dirt ain’t holdin you
And when the hubbub’s finally through
You’ll come and see me
This can’t be right, they must be wrong
You wouldn’t leave me here alone
If you’d a died, you woulda told me
Your spirit woulda come and showed me
Cuz you’da know’d how sick and lonely I’d feel without you
So I wait here and bide my time
For you to come show me a sign
And say it’s all a dirty lie
You just can’t be dead
You tell me how you say goodbye
When you’re as close as you and I
This great big world keeps spinnin round
And as the moon keeps shining down
A lonely man sits on the ground
Missing his best friend
Ocie Fisher
Ocie Fisher was born and raised in Northwest Arkansas. She joined her church choir at a very young age and her vocal talent quickly blossomed. Ocie is in the Northwest Arkansas Music Awards Hall of Fame and is a 4-Time Female Vocalist of the Year. She sang with the Ark Gospel Mass Choir that was nominated for a Stellar Award in 8 categories. Today, Ocie sings with Divas On Fire and with the Ocie Fisher band.
AMAZING GRACE
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now I’m found,
Was blind but now I see.
Through many dangers, toils, and snares
I have already come.
Was grace that brought me safe thus far
And grace will lead me home.
Praise God, praise God, praise God!
Praise God, praise God, praise God!
Praise God, praise God, praise God!
The hour I first believed.
Trout Fishing in America
Trout Fishing in America is the long-standing and yet seemingly unlikely musical partnership of Keith Grimwood and Ezra Idlet. As individuals, they are about as different as one can imagine. Together, they blend seamlessly in a way that has captured the imagination (and hearts) of audiences of all ages for over three decades. Ezra on guitar and banjo stands 6’8″ tall while Keith on bass stretches to 5’5 1/2″ on a humid day. Ezra is more playful and extroverted while Keith is more serious and reserved. Each of them bring out the best in the other and the joy that comes from this musical interaction is contagious and impossible to deny.
Trout Fishing in America was in the first wave of artist owned labels (Trout Records) to successfully record and market their own music. Their recordings have garnered multiple national awards as well as four Grammy nominations.
LULLABY
Close your eyes and I’ll sing you a song.
Lullaby, sleep until the dawn.
The crickets seranade echoes softly through the night.
The stars are on the lake, and the moon is shining bright.
Don’t worry, I’ll leave the light on in the hall.
Just go to sleep now, close your eyes.
Close your eyes, listen to my song.
Lullaby, sleep until the dawn.
The birds are in their nest and the cows are in the barn.
The covers on your bed will keep you safe and warm.
Don’t worry, I’ll be beside you should you fall.
Just go to sleep now, close your eyes.
Dragons in the sky,
Flying with their golden treasures.
And if you catch their eye,
Wishes granted, more than you can measure.
I’ll be beside you should you fall.
Just go to sleep now, close your eyes.