WASHERWOMAN'S LAMENT - Phyllis Sinclair

Get up in the dark, light up the stove

Just another day to carry my load

Frost on the wood, ice on the coal

Just another day to carry my load

Just another day to carry my load

Lift the pail from the pine wood floor

Just another day to carry my load

Pour on the heat, ‘til the water rolls

Just another day to carry my load

Just another day to carry my load

Fill the tub with the preacher man’s clothes

Just another day to carry my load

Hide the stains from the Holy Ghost

Just another day to carry my load

Just another day to carry my load

Hang the shirts, in the merciless cold

Just another day to carry my load

Roll them in from the clothes line pole

Just another day to carry my load

Just another day to carry my load

Fill the pails for another load
Just another day to carry my load

Tired don’t pay for bread and coal
Just another day to carry my load

Just another day to carry my load

Get up in the dark, light up the stove

Just another day to carry my load

Just another day to carry my load

repeat 

ANOTHER SINGLE DAY - Phyllis Sinclair
She wakes up in the morning, just before the day awakes

To the resting of an eager world that waits
For questions she must answer, and the choices she must make

She’s alone holds the lamp that lights the way

In the quiet of this moment, when doubt begin to loom

With no one but her shadow in an empty of the room

When lonely fills the corners, cast worry on her day

She lays back on her pillow and she says

In this place, give me grace

When I feel I the tide of doubt, my fears erase

Sleeping dreams await, Trusting eyes have faith

In my will to go another single day

When in the clamour of the midday, when needs are not her own

And she’s bending neath the crush of the heavy load
And she wonders how she’ll get through, how she’ll survive the day

She breathes in deeps and says these words again

In this place, give me grace

When I feel I the tide of doubt, my fears erase

Sleeping dreams await, Trusting eyes have faith

In my will to go another single day
 

In the darkness with her thoughts she lies in wake of a restless night
When lonely lays beside her there, in a grip that holds her tight
She thinks back on the time they had, and the little strides they made,

Together in another single day

Together in another single day

MORNING LAUGHTER - Phyllis Sinclair

Nothing sounds so good as morning laughter
Wake up to the sound of laughter

No song or symphony, note or melody
No sound half as sweet as morning laughter 

Comfort found its way through morning laugher

Made light of my dreams in peaceful slumber

No safer place of rest
Than on morning laughter’s breast
Comfort found its way through morning laughter

Got through any day on morning laughter

Washed my cares away, my troubles scatter

No mission was too great
No effort, job, or weight
Got through any day on morning laughter

Nothing felt so good as morning laughter

Coffee on the stove and cheerful chatter

No soft rain in July
Embrace or lullaby

Nothing felt so good as morning laughter

Morning laughter

Morning laughter

OUR SIDE OF THE LINE - Phyllis Sinclair

Highway signs are dim tonight, the moon has waned away

And I wonder if blue will turn to lime one day
I drive through the dark with the radio on, and I hear “Back Home Again”

My drive accelerates with each refrain

Fourteen days out on road, with nine more hours to go
Now I’m looking for the northern lights, not another show

These plastic bags and paper cups, take out food and “fill it up"

Will end when I turn in the driveway, home

Home, home 

Where the wind blows soft, the sheets drying out on the line
Home, home

Where the grass grows even greener our side of the line

The Rockies climb into my mind, they sure have made their dough
And that Old Man River has had his share of woes
And I wonder if the tractor’s running good, and how the crops have grown

And once again, my thoughts have beat me home

Soon I look upon the Barley field, with gravel dust on my wheels

Where a weather-worn barn leans north to point me home
But for now I’ll just keep a-driving on, listen to another tune

And long for home beneath the absent moon

Home, home 

Where the wind blows soft, the sheets drying out on the line
Home, home

Where the grass grows even greener our side of the line

Where the Grass Grows Even Greener our Side of the Line

THE TEMPTRESS (FOLLOW ME DOWN) - Phyllis Sinclair
Good morning John, how was your time last night?

I made you the man that you wanted, I was alright.

Shot you up with my power, made you man of the hour

I got more up my sleeve, just stick with me

Follow me down

And good morning Jane, you little mascara clown
I see love found its way to your corner, I ordered a round

I poured on the fire, made you queen of desire
There’s more in my cup, I’ll fill you up
Just follow me down

Follow me down, down to the wild side

Follow me down, we’ll take the slow, easy, free, slide

What’s there to choose, you got nothin’ to loose

Follow me down

Well, I gotta go now, but I’m not very far
I’ll be down on the corner, just waitin’, I know who you are
They say I can’t be trusted, I’ll leave you bruised, broke and busted

But I’m here for your pleasure, by weight and by the measure

Follow me down

Follow me down, down to the wild side
Follow me down, we’ll take the slow, easy, slide

What’s there to choose, you got nothin’ to loose Follow me down
I do this all for free, you can trust me
Follow me down 

SUNDAY BEST - Phyllis Sinclair

Of all the days of the week I remember Sunday best

That day was somehow different not like all the rest

Didn't chop the wood or sew, and all the stores were closed

Nothing moved in town, but the old church bell

With Sunday dinner done, the house would rest awhile

I’d hang my Sunday dress, and take my thoughts outside

In the quiet of that day, my mind would drift away

Sitting on the back door step, with time to wonder why

How high does the sun hang up there in the sky?

Where did it come from and how did it get its light?

What’s inside the ocean, and what makes shore waves sigh?

Time for the questions of a child

With the reins of the saw horse on the back door step

I'd saddled up my guesses and my precepts
Took them for a ride, in stillness we made strides
As shadows grew, my world blew open wide

Come evening after supper with the candle low
I’d pull the flannel sheet back from my window
Felt the cool evening chill, the night was just as still

As daytime after church, we left ten hours ago

Why is there dust on the wings of the butterfly?
Why does one star burn so dim, while another star burns bright?

Where do rainbows come from and what makes wrong and right?

Time for the questions of a child

Sundays in that town have never left my mind

Cut through all the places that I’ve left behind

What six days didn’t give, my quiet Sunday’s did

Open up my eyes and keep me mystified

Of all the days of the week I remember Sunday best
That day was somehow different not like all the rest
Didn’t chop the wood or sew, and all the stores were closed

And nothing moved in town, but the old church bell 

AT THE END OF THE ROAD - Phyllis Sinclair
At the end of the road, I will be waiting

Wearing the white dress you bought me when I left for home

With the Rose in my hair, you placed on my pillow

I’ll be waiting right here by the gate and you won’t walk alone

When your work day is through, and your lunch box is empty
And you brush off the dust of the day as the five whistle blows
And the boss man says, “job well done”, as you leave to turn homeward

I’ll be waiting right here by the gate and you won’t walk alone

Like an old silent picture show, where eyes steal all the lines
You’ll understand my soundless words as your hand reaches for mine

As the choir sings Amazing Grace, and the people rise to leave
Don’t worry that you’re all alone, look down the road you’ll see me

At the end of the road, I will be waiting
Wearing the white dress you bought me when I left for home

With the Rose in my hair, you placed on my pillow

I’ll be waiting right here by the gate and you won’t walk alone

I’ll be waiting right here by the gate and you won’t walk alone

FINDING ONTARIO - Phyllis Sinclair

Took my seat on a Greyhound for Ontario

I’m so damn scared I’m shaking inside but I’ve got to go

I’m tired of thinking, tired of wondering 

‘bout the things that I don’t know

And I think that it’s time I went back to Ontario

Split but not torn by the forty-nine from Ontario
I don’t fit in this town, will I finally fit in Shabinow

I just never feel right, I’m not black I’m not white,
I’m in the middle and I’d sure like to know
Where I fit in this world, hope to find out in Ontario

Little baby bunting its time to go-a-hunting for home

Little baby bunting its time to go-a-hunting for home

Don’t know what awaits me there in Ontario
Will I feel like a stranger in my homeland of Ontario
Will I go back to find a place that is mine
And will I finally feel I’ve found my way home
Time to take this long ride, end the searching inside in Ontario

Little baby bunting its time to go-a-hunting for home

Little baby bunting its time to go-a-hunting for home

And I think that its time I went back to Ontario

LATCHKEY - Phyllis Sinclair

Outside my doorway one day, I heard a strange sound
I laid down my book for inspection, looked all around

Up in a tree, making her plea, alone in a dark forest crown
Tossed by the wind, a little feather of a wing

I felt for her helplessness, moved by her cry
Uncertain, unshelthered, too young to fly
Though blown she held fast, bearing the blast

And fearing the storm that roll by

Hold on, don’t give in, little feather of a wing

Hush little winged one, your mamas not far

Believe me, she hears you there, she knows where you are

And though she can’t be, up in this tree

Hold on, oh take heart

You are the reason she sings,

You’re a feather of her wing

In times of confusion, and wondering why
When ramparts retreat in the battle, and triumph takes flight

I look out to see, that nest-empty tree
And victory circling high
I know I can win, I’m a feather in a wing

Hush little winged one, your mamas not far

Believe me, she hears you there, she knows where you are

And though she can’t be, up in this tree

Hold on, oh take heart

You are the reason she sings

You’re a feather of her wing
You are the reason she sings

You’re a feather of her wing 

WHERE TIME STANDS STILL - Phyllis Sinclair

Looking out my window beyond the clouds and past the colored sky

Searching for a glimpse of you behind the veil where heaven’s said to lie

I want to see your face, know that you’re alright

I want to peek through the wall, where time stands still

I’ve heard there’s a place out there reserved for those who leave this mortal strand

Some have called it Asgaard, Tien, Mount Olympus, Glory Land
A place that knows no pain, free of war and strife
And we all meet again, where time stands still

And time stands still in a corner of my mind

Time stands still in a place I can’t define

Where I feel but I cannot touch you
See but I cannot hold you
A presence warm and close so near, but not within my reach

When I pass a looking glass, I turned to your imaged mirrored there

When I speak I hear your voice, my laughter rings in notes I can compare

To what you left inside, where blood and bone collide
Deep inside my heart where time stands still

So it really doesn’t matter how near or far this other world resides

All I know is where you are is where I want to be on the other side

When I pass through the veil, sail through these skies
I want to be with you again, where time stands still