Tuesday, May 31, 2016

ATF: Legends

This series will include as many of my all-time favorite (ATF) tunes as I can get my grubby little hands on (so to speak).  Now, each one included in each edition will have some connection with the other—albeit only as a figment of my imagination, but they will not be numbered.  For I just cannot bring myself to rate some higher than others.  So, this will not be a countdown, but if you are enjoying them as much as I do, it won’t matter.  Besides, with no countdown, this could go on forever and ever!  Oh, and despite the fact that there is absolutely no way your musical tastes could be as exquisite as mine, I welcome any suggestions you might dare to make.  For I am, after all, quite magnanimous by nature.



Don Quixote
Gordon Lightfoot
Through the woodland
Through the valley
Comes a horseman
Wild and free
Tilting at the windmills passing
Who can the brave young horseman be
He is wild
But he is mellow
He is strong
But he is weak
He is cruel
But he is gentle
He is wise
But he is meek

Reaching for his saddlebag
He takes a battered book into his hand
Standing like a prophet bold
He shouts across the ocean to the shore
;Til he can shout no more

I have come over moor and mountain
Like the hawk upon the wing
I was once a shining knight
Who was the guardian of a king
I have searched the whole world over
Looking for a place to sleep
I have seen the strong survive
And I have seen the lean grown weak

See the children of the earth
Who wake to find the table bare
See the gentry in the country
Riding off to take the air

Reaching for his saddlebag
He takes a rusty sword into his hand
Then striking up a knightly pose
He shouts across the ocean to the shore
‘Til he can shout no more

See the jailor with his key
Who locks away all trace of sin
See the judge upon the bench
Who tries the case as best he can
See the wise and wicked ones
Who feed upon life's sacred fire
See the soldier with his gun
Who must be dead to be admired

See the man who tips the needle
See the man who buys and sells
See the man who puts the collar
On the ones who dare not tell
See the drunkard in the tavern
Stemming gold to make ends meet
See the youth in ghetto black
Condemned to life upon the street

Reaching for his saddlebag
He takes a tarnished cross into his hand
Standing like a preacher now
He shouts across the ocean to the shore
Then in a blaze of tangled hooves
He gallops off across the dusty plain
In vain to search again
Where no one will hear

Through the woodland
Through the valley
Comes a horseman
Wild and free
Tilting at the windmills passing
Who can the brave young horseman be
He is wild
But he is mellow
He is strong
But he is weak
He is cruel
But he is gentle
He is wise
But he is meek



Vincent
Don McLean
Starry starry night
Paint your palette blue and gray
Look out on a summer's day
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul
Shadows on the hills
Sketch the trees and the daffodils
Catch the breeze and the winter chills
In colors on the snowy linen land

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen
They did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now

Starry starry night
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze
Swirling clouds in violet haze
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue
Colors changing hue
Morning fields of amber grain
Weathered faces lined in pain
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand

Now I understand
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen
They did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now

For they could not love you
But still your love was true
And when no hope was left inside
On that starry starry night
You took your life as lovers often do
But I could have told you Vincent
This world was never meant for one
As beautiful as you

Starry starry night
Portraits hung in empty halls
Frameless heads on nameless walls
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget
Like the strangers that you've met
The ragged men in ragged clothes
The silver thorn of bloody rose
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow

Now I think I know
What you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen
They're not listening still
Perhaps they never will

Lyrics From: [eLyrics.net]

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8 comments:

  1. You've chosen 2 of my favorite songs of all time. Thank you. There is a beauty, sensitivity and strength in these compositions that, once felt and absorbed, do not leave one alone, not ever.

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    1. Thanks for stopping by, my dear Geo!!! I am so very glad you enjoyed this.

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  2. Enjoyed these. Thank you for sharing.

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    1. Thanks for stopping by, my dear Martin!!! You are most welcome.

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  3. Always loved Don McLean's stuff, and Gordon Lightfoot is quite rightfully a legend.

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    1. Thanks for stopping by, my dear Silver Fox!!! That adds even more to it. For I was just thinking of the songs being about legends while both of the performers truly are legends themselves.

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