THE SAXOPHONIST - Phyllis Sinclair

He picked up his Saxophone and held it to his side

He blew the keys to clear them out

His thoughts he could not hide

He said just four days short of sixty years of married bliss she died

Two weeks as a single man how would he survive?

He said she was the only girl who ever shared his bed
Loved her dear before and since the day that they were wed

He called her name the other night but there was no reply

Now its’ just his saxophone that keeps his world alive

And he played, and he played and he played, and I cried

The notes he played were clear and strong he blew us all away
For a man of nearly eighty years, Oh my how he could play
Jazz, Blues, Ragtime, Rock, Latin, Folk and Pop
He played them like he’d composed them all, He didn’t want to stop

His appearance changed when he blew that sax to a man of youthful days

Like magic from a genie’s lamp, He played with style and grace

His face lit up his back was straight, his aged fingers quick
His eyes were bright, his lungs were strong, and he didn’t miss a lick

And he played, and he played and he played, in perfect time

When the music stopped at evening’s end and we put our things away,

I couldn’t help but notice there, inscribed upon his case
Play this the way you love me dear and I will always be,
Close to you lips and in your arms just play and you will see

It was there that I understood the value of a gift,
It warms the heart of the one who gives imparts their soul a lift
But it’s at the point when the one who takes that the gift is given birth

When the love and thought is recognized the gift is given worth

And he played, and he played and he played, and I smiled

When I went home that night I thought about the man
And the sax he played with passion, And how it all began
And I realized that a gift of love gives much more than some hype

It gives the gift of keeping on, It gives the gift of life

And he played, and he played and he played, in my mind

In my mind

In my mind

Oh how he played, in my mind 

THE OLD NINE - Phyllis Sinclair

The paint was worn and peeling and the headlights busted out

The tires were cracked and the exhaust stack, was bent and rusted out

The wear on the hitch; the corroded switch, twisted crank on the ground

Told me that I’d found the one for me so I laid my money down

He said it’s.....

Seen better days SON, seen better days

Its worse for wear, lost all its flare, gone are its glory days

It needs a new crank, and a diesel tank 

To late to fix it now,

But HE didn’t understand that I had a plan

For that tractor and a plough

My wife was waiting by the gate when I bought that tractor home
She couldn’t understand, what I saw in that strand, of dented and rusty chrome

She said I love you dear, but it’s more than clear, your sight is failing fast

There’s nothing you can do to fix it now, this tractors days are passed

She said it’s.....

Seen better daysLove, its seen better days

Its worse for wear, lost all its flare, gone are its glory days

It needs a new crank, and a diesel tank 

To late to fix it now,

But she didn’t understand that I had a plan

For that tractor and a plough

Worked hard all that winter, By the spring the job was done
Like a childhood boy with a Christmas toy, I showed it to everyone
But none that saw, matched my grandpa, when I hooked his plough behind

Then he told me the words that he last heard, when it sold in Thirty-nine

They said it’s.....

Seen better days boy, seen better days

Its worse for wear, lost all its flare, gone are its glory days

It needs a new crank, and a diesel tank 

To late to fix it now,

But they didn’t understand that I had a plan

For that tractor and a plough

No they didn't understand that I had a plan

For that tractor and a plough

OFF MUSIC ROW - Phyllis Sinclair

She said she came from Missouri, had her guitar in her hand

She stood in line to take the mic and sing her song with the backup band

She sang her heart out to the crowd, hoping to be a star

But, all she got were smoke rings and whistles from the bar

Around it goes, off Music Row
Another dreaming hopeful, dealt a crushing blow

Through the round, of Nashville town
Where songs are a dime a dozen on Broadway Street downtown

He said he came from Milwaukee, met with some success
A publisher took down his name but he hasn’t heard from him yet
He told of how he wrote a song with a writer who claimed some fame He heard the song on the radio, but it went by another name

Around it goes, off Music Row
Another dreaming hopeful, dealt a crushing blow

Through the round, of Nashville town
Where songs are a dime a dozen on Broadway Street downtown

He worked the gift shop at the Opry, while writing songs on the side
One caught the ear of a singer, now his song’s heard nationwide
He thinks of what his father said, when his song went number one

“Success is hard to get, even harder to hold. Know what you want, Son “

Around it goes, off Music Row
Another dreaming hopeful, dealt a crushing blow

Through the round, of Nashville town
Where songs are a dime a dozen on Broadway Street downtown

Around it goes, around it goes, around it goes

ONE TRACK MIND - Phyllis Sinclair

Is it my imagination?

Am I really here at the station

Ready to go?

I can’t believe my determination

Never thought this recreation of love

Could hurt me so

I’ve got a one track mind, I’m not turning back

I just won’t listen to the things I lack

I’m worth much more than the credit you give

I want to live

I’ve finally come to realize

The choice was always mine

To stay go or listen to empty words and lies

Won’t take more condemnation

On my way to liberation
I’m ready to go

I realize that my salvation

Is my own obligation to me

And me alone

I’ve got a one track mind, I’m not turning back

I just won’t listen to the things I lack

I’m worth much more than the credit you give

I want to live 

I’m ready to go

I’m ready to go

No turning back

NORTH COAST FISHER WIFE'S PRAYER - Phyllis Sinclair

The Rupert rain is falling fast,
The outflow winds a fury blast

Waves near high as old Mount Hays

I fear for those on the Hecate Strait

I fear for all on the Hecate Strait

Bring Home, Bring Home
Bring Home my husband and my young son Joe

Bring Home our friends from old Dodge Cove

Bring Home good pay for the Herring Roe

Bring Home

The Hecate boils hard in a winter squall

Writes names of plaques of Mariner’s Wall

Lucy, Holland Rock, Cape St. James,
Cast out your lights upon the waves

Cast out your lights upon the waves and....

Bring Home, Bring Home,
Bring Home my husband and my young son Joe

Bring Home our friends from old Dodge Cove

Bring Home good pay for the Herring Roe

Bring Home

Northeast winds would you spare the lives

Of husbands and sons of fisher wives
Who ply their trade with net and cage
For wages on the tallyman’s page

For wages on the tallyman’s page

Bring Home, Bring Home
Bring Home my husband and my young son Joe

Bring Home our friends from old Dodge Cove

Bring Home good pay for the Herring Roe

Bring Home

Now ease my mind as I say down

Bring peace of mind to this fishing town

Bring back our loved to old Cow Bay

Return them safe dear God I pray

Return them safe dear God I pray

Bring Home, Bring Home,
Bring Home my husband and my young son

Joe Bring Home our friends from old Dodge Cove

Bring Home good pay for the Herring Roe

Bring Home

Bring Home 

HARD TIME HANNAH - Phyllis Sinclair

She rode through the streets on her two wheeled bike

Bags full of clothes gonna take a ride

To the kids in town

Pass the goods around
Oooh, Oooh, hard-time Hannah

Down to the food bank get some grub,
Take it to the old folks, give a hug to those she finds,
She’s got a heart so kind

Oooh, Oooh, hard-time Hannah

Hard time Hannah you’ve had it rough
Life on the streets didn’t toughen you up
Hard time Hannah, you won’t be beat

By the dirt and the pain of these cold city streets

Down to the Sally-Ann find a dress
Take it to the school for the girl with less

hat lived next door, her grads at four

Oooh, Oooh, hard-time Hannah

Off to the shelter got to give a smile,

Moms and the kids, they’ve been waitin’ a while

But they know she’ll come, with jokes and gum.
Oooh, Oooh, hard-time Hannah

Hard time Hannah you live here too
You know what its like, what's a girl to do

Help where you can, give from your cup

You might not win, but you won't give up

Off to the soup kitchen, grab a bite

See if her friends all made it through the night

She hopes they did, ‘specially that kid
Oooh, Oooh, hard-time Hannah

Night is fallin' got to get back home

All is well for those who roam

These city streets, with less to eat than

Oooh, ooohh Hard time Hannah

Hear the words of the preacher man

Says she sings with the angel band
She died last night, without a fight
Oooh, Oooh, hard-time Hannah

Now who’s to say who’s rich or poor

Those with nothing can give much more

When hearts are free,

Drop the scales and see like

Oooh, Oooh, hard-time Hannah

This world was a better place with Hard time Hannah

Who will replace Hard-Time Hannah? 

FENCE POSTS AND STONES - Phyllis Sinclair

A weathered old farmhouse
A falling down barn sit silent on the prairie
Where children once played

Apple pies made to feed the field-tilling weary
But rain, dust and snows, and forty belows

Not to mention the lure of the cities
Left them alone, there in the cold

With only the fence posts and stones

T’was here long ago

My forefathers sowed

Hope in a young growing land
Turned brush and pulled trees

Made their hands bleed though the soil was littered with sand

Yet courage they found with each post in the ground

Each stone they pulled from the clay

To build a new home, where peace could be sown

Among their fence posts and stones

Fence posts and stones live in my bones

Each one tells a story to me

Of grandfather’s toil on this brown prairie soil

Among these fence posts and stones

Those who come by here don’t know what I feel

Just another old farm house they see

But I see my granddad when I was a young lad

Looking down from his tractor at me

All day we’d work on in the hot burning sun

Sowing oats or barley or hay
This place is my home, I’ve no need to roam

Away from these fence posts and stones

Fence posts and stones live in my bones

Each one tells a story to me

Of grandfather’s toil on this brown prairie soil

Among these fence posts and stones

Time has marched on now,

I stand here alone looking out on a rich field of green
The fence posts that stand

The stones on the land pay homage to grandfather’s dream

It’s here I was born and its here I will die

Its lifeblood runs through my veins
And when I’m called home

Just bury my bones among these fence posts and stones

Fence posts and stones live in my bones

Each one tells a story to me

Of grandfather’s toil on this brown prairie soil

Among these fence posts and stones

So when I’m called home, just bury my bones

Below these fence posts and stones

Below these fence posts and stones,

A weathered old farm house, a falling down barn, sit silent on the prairie 

I PROMISE - Phyllis Sinclair

I don’t promise, always sunshine

Always blue skies, bed of roses to lay on

I don’t promise constant laughter

Happy ever after, stuff that fairy tales

Are made of

But I promise to you my trust

Words to love to lift you up

A faithful friend to the end
On this you can depend

I promise

I don’t promise only pleasure,
Days of leisure, no more hard times, Here after
I don’t promise unfading beauty

Shapely body, skin of satin,
To gaze on
But I promise to you my hand
A heart that will understand
A companion through the years

There to dry your tears
I promise

I promise

I promise when the world seems dark and cold

And it’s hard to break a smile

I’ll be there just sit with you

And listen for a while

I don’t promise, earthly riches
Diamond ditches, cloaks of leather
To clothe you
I don’t promise ivory towers

Velvet flowers

Stuff that make believe Is made of

But I promise when my hair turns gray,
And we come to the end of our day
You’ll find me there by your side,
On this you can rely
I promise,
I promise,
I promise..... 

WHEN YOU COMING BACK (TO MEDICINE HAT) - Phyllis Sinclair

Walking through the coulee on a Saturday

Sunday’s coming and you’re going away

Back up north to the pulp mill
Back up north, gotta pay the bills

And we hear the song of the Meadow Lark

Echo through the hills of Kin Coulee Park
And I can’t help but wonder when you’ll be back

When ya’ comin’ back to Medicine Hat

When ya’ comin’ back to Medicine Hat

Can you give me a time and a day?

Hours and minutes that you’ll be away

Help me to know when you’ll be back

You call me from a phone near Athabasca

You’re almost there I hear the Black Bird’s caw

Alberta sunset is pretty you say,
Alberta sunset is pretty like me, you say
Can’t wait to get back home,
Hate to leave you there all alone
Then I ask you again when you’ll be back

When ya’ comin’ back to Medicine Hat

When ya’ comin’ back to Medicine Hat

Can you give me a time and a day?

Hours and minutes that you’ll be away

Help me to know when you’ll be back



Weekends together go by so fast,
We can’t stop time and make these moments last

So we call each other on the telephone
Give each other news of work and home

Like Baby, smiled for the first time today
Made me wish you weren’t so far away
And I can’t wait to see you when you get back

When ya’ comin’ back to Medicine Hat

When ya’ comin’ back to Medicine Hat

I’ll’ spend some time in the Cypress Hills

Thinking of you at that cold pulp mill

Killing time at whatever til you get back

Til you get back to Medicine Hat

When ya comin' back to Medicine Hat?