MY FISHING HOLE - Phyllis Sinclair
There’s a place in my childhood I often would go
A quiet little hide away beyond the hydro road
A place where I could cast away the worries of my mind
Untangle all my trouble at the end of my line
Did you know I had a fishing hole?
My fishing hole and I were young we made a natural pair
A whirlpool and an eddy sailing free without a care
Like Sawyer’s Mississippi and the seas of Captain Hook
Explored our worlds together in the confines of that brook
Worlds untold at my fishing hole
Where all the world was right
Though I rarely caught a bite
That fishing hole just fed my soul
I felt whole at my fishing hole
And when I grew to face the daunting queries of my youth
Faced the age old questions who is god and what is truth?
I often found the answer just while casting through the air
Answered in the stillness of my self reflection there
Truths unfold at my fishing hole
Now my hair is turning grey my life has its demands
Running errands and paying bills complicating plans
When I need so time to think some time to slow my pace
That hydro road still lures me back to my favourite childhood place
I still go to my fishing hole
Where all the world is right
Though I rarely catch a bite
That fishing hole still feeds my soul
I feel whole at my fishing hole
I feel whole at my fishing howl
SAYISI SONG - Phyllis Sinclair
You’ve been wandering, far too long
Searching for that place, forever gone
Though you’re weary now, believe
Tomorrow comes and this new day brings a song
Dry your eyes – arise
Tears of pain have kept you down too long
Weep no more, close that door
Save your strength for the day
The night is through
In the twilight, night spirits roam
Longing for the day they journey home
Hear their voices plead, set us free
Grieve no more, our parting brings release
Dry your eyes – arise
Tears of pain have kept you down too long
Weep no more, close the door
Save your strength for the day
The night is through
Save your strength Night Spirits long for home
THE MANICURE - Phyllis Sinclair
Standing in the check out line
She pulled her cart up next to mine
She asked if I would help her to unload
My hands they just don’t work the same
They’re stiff and crooked, But I won’t complain
These hands have toiled and laboured to get me by
It’s the least that I can do to show
The thanks I have and the debt I owe
It’s taken a life of living to get my hands to look like this
Back in days when I was young
When little arms around me clung
They dried a thousand tears from crying eyes
They cleaned the dirt from tumbled knees
Spent countless hours shelling garden peas
And the built the house we lived in at the time
They scrubbed a few walls pots and pans
Coined the phrase of dish pan hands
It’s taken a life of living to get my hands to look like this
It’s taken a life of living to get my hands to look like this
Leathered, cracked and wrinkled from working hard,
I must admit, I know
They’re not too much to look upon,
Never soaked them in a fine salon
It’s taken a life of living to get my hands to look like this.
Lost the farm in ‘63
Took a job in town at the factory,
I assembled parts til my hands were thick and numb
They had their knocks, their bumps and blows
But they bought the farm that the bank foreclosed
And a horse who taught the kids all how to ride
They had their share of cuts and scars
But they taught the value of working hard
It’s taking a life of living to get my hands to look like this
It’s taken a life of living to get my hands to look like this
Leathered, cracked and wrinkled from working hard
I must admit, I know
They’re not too much to look upon
Never soaked them in a fine salon
It’s taken a life of living to get my hands to look like this.
Now you know about these hands
I hope you don’t misunderstand
I’ve given them the best care that I could
Though they’ve never had a life of ease
Never pampered, I can guarantee
They’re the reason that I stand here with my pride
My life has been their manicure
Shaped by service through the years
It’s taken a life of living to get my hands to look like this
It’s taken a life of living to get my hands to look like this
Leathered, cracked and wrinkled from working hard,
I must admit, I know
They’re not too much to look upon
Never soaked them in a fine salon
It’s taken a life of living to get my hands to look like this.
It's taken a life of living to get my hands to look like this
WRECK OF THE DICTATOR - Phyllis Sinclair
He said, I set my net at the last low tide
Where I set before at least a thousand times
Me and Dictator on the fishing ground
Four fathoms down
It was a full moon tide on the Skull Bar shelf
A shallow rise in a bottomless hell
Time to pull the silver from the sandy mound
Four fathoms down
Fishing for a living, it’s a drain on a sailor’s soul
Empty nets can make a warm man cold
The tide was strong - took my net for a ride
Flipped The Dictator over on her side
Tried to free her with my knife ‘til the blood dripped down
Four fathoms down
I made to shore I had to find some help,
Couldn’t stand to watch her writhing on the shelf
Got the hooks, got the chains – gonna tow her out to
To twenty-five fathoms down
Try for a winning, it’s a game in Leviathan’s hole
I spend more money trying to make a go
Try for a winning, it’s gamble on Leviathan’s hole
Should I give up only heaven knows
Heaven knows
We pulled and we tugged got her half upright
Dragged her off the bar while she hung on tight
The current kept her trail like a blood crazed hound,
There’s Thirty-five fathoms down
Oh, the sun and the moon they wouldn’t give up her soul
Snapped the chains loose like a dry wish bone
She lurched, swayed back made a mournful sound
There’s Forty- five fathoms down
No misgivings, though the work it can break your bones
The paybacks more than a miner’s gold
No misgivings, though the work makes a young man old
The payback’s better than a miner’s gold
Miner’s gold
She pitched and she rolled, she gave the fight of her life
Fought the watery hand that gripped with all her might
But the tide won the battle and it pulled her down
To f Fifty five fathoms down
Dictator she’s a lady, she’s a sailor’s dream
She's saved countless men in a hurricane sea
Earned every salt of her resting ground
Fifty-five fathoms down
Take no pity, it would shame and vex her so
Just thanks for the years and the good times, bro
Take no pity, it would shame and crush her so
Just thanks for years, now its time to go
Time to go
On the Skull Bar floor now she marks my set
A true-blue friend in her eternal rest
Earthen, wooden vessel, she’s immortal now
Fifty-five fathoms down
Fifty-five fathoms down
Fifty-five fathoms down
MY NORTHERN TOWN - Phyllis Sinclair
Standing on the platform, waiting for the “get-on-board”
Time to head back to my northern town
Conductor waiting for the sign to load the Hudson Bay line
Just can’t wait to hear the rattle down
Take me home
All I want is my northern town, where the wild wind blows
Feel the cold rush through my bones, laugh with friends I know
C’mon call me on board, ride me northward home
C’mon make those wheel rolls, take my heart back home
I’ll watch the wheat fields rolling by, stare out at the prairie sky
Wake up with the whistle whining low
We’ll pass the midway forest stands, onto coastal lowlands
When I cross the Nelson River I will know
I’m near home
All I want is my northern town, where the wild wind blows
Feel the cold rush through my bones, laugh with friends I know
C’mon call me on board, ride me northward home
C’mon make those wheel rolls, take my heart back home
I’ll feel the wheels below my feet, two-step with my heart beat
Pounding out the rhythm of the bow
It’s neighbour playing St. Anne’s Reel, keeping time with his boot heals
Friday night dance is the place to go
That’s my home
All I want is my northern town, where the wild wind blows
Feel the cold rush through my bones, laugh with friends I know
C’mon call me on board, ride me northward home
C’mon make those wheel rolls, take my heart back home
I’ll feel the morning summer breeze, wrap my sweater close to me
Standing on the grey back rocky shore
I’ll hear the cry of Whiskey Jack, walk along the river flats
Smell my grandma’s cookin’ on the stove
I’ll be home
All I want is my northern town, where the wild wind blows
Feel the cold rush through my bones, laugh with friends I know
C’mon call me on board, ride me northward home
C’mon make those wheel rolls, take my heart back home
All I want is my northern town
ALBERTA ROSE - Phyllis Sinclair
She sits in the crevasse waiting for morning,
Awaiting the sun, and her day to begin when she’ll rise again
On the prairie wind
She’s in no hurry, she drinks in the dew,
Watches the sage brush drink of it too, in the Badland
What a pretty pair
She’s Alberta Rose, she’s strong and she’s free,
Wild Natural Beauty Flower of the Prairie
She follows the sun to the great Rocky Mountains,
There she can bathe in the pools & the fountains past foothills green
All day to dream
She waltzes through ranch land, valleys, and farms
Flaunting her beauty, she’s working her charm on the Ammolite
Her jewelled delight
She’s Alberta Rose, she’s strong and she’s free,
Wild Natural Beauty Flower of the Prairie
Alberta Rose
She brushes the Ice fields heading for Zama,
Wades in the shore line of Lake Athabasca in the ancient pines
Under autumn skies
Northern wind blowing, she takes her rest,
Satisfied knowing, she gave us her best, then she fades away
But she’ll come again
She’s Alberta Rose, she’s strong and she’s free,
Wild Natural Beauty Flower of the Prairie
Freely she gives us full knowing she’ll wither and die
Return to the earth there renewing the circle of life,
Then she’ll rise in the grain ripened harvest, gem stones and the oil,\
Appearing once more to give back to Alberta soil
Now she sits in the crevasse waiting for morning,
Awaiting the sun, and her day to begin
When she’ll rise again
On the prairie wind
ENCINITAS - Phyllis Sinclair
Booked a room in Encinitas
Took some time to feel the sun
Watch the waves roll off the ocean
Taste the salt air with our tongues
You, me, Encinitas
You, me, Encinitas
Walked the shores of Encinitas
Felt the warm air kiss our skin
Heard the gulls cry in the cliff above
Heard the waves sing with the wind
You, me, Encinitas
You, me, Encinitas
Left by train from Encinitas
Left the wonder of it all
In my mind I will go back again
In my mind I will recall
You, me, Encinitas
You, me, Encinitas
You, me, Encinitas
MAIN STREET - Phyllis Sinclair
Snow is falling at my feet, leaving tracks that follow me
Down Main Street
Like the imprint in my mind, impressions left of bygone times
On Main Street
I see the old time places, familiar lines on faces
Some things have changed but hard times still remain here
Like the wind that blows
Down Main Street
Wasn’t long ago it seems, I lived the mediocrity
Of Main Street
Rescue Missions, dingy bars, cheap hotels, all played a part
On Main Street
Places for the lonely, All thinking they’re the only
Ones who’ve faced the hard times in the bitter air of the wind that blows
Down Main Street
But, what good is a memory, if not to tell tomorrow
Which roads to lose, which roads to keep
What to change or borrow?
What's to say of crazy days wandering in the lost parade
Of Main Street?
We came to work and give our backs just to fall between the cracks
Of Main Street
Thousand year old heroes, Who fell below to zero
With few to say now don't give up there are warmer days than this cold buffet
Of Main Street
But, what good is a memory, if not to tell tomorrow
Which roads to lose, which roads to keep
What to change or borrow?
Here I stand now looking back, I paved my own road, Made new tracks
Off Main Street
Can’t say that I have regret I paid my dues, I leave no debt to Main Street
Yet still I owe this boulevard, Credit for the playing card It dealt to win the losing game In the bitter air of the wind that blows
Down Main Street
And as I turn my face to leave a part of me will always be
On Main Street
And when I lay me down to sleep, I’ll pray the Lord your souls to keep
On Main Street
JEWELS ON THE CROWN OF SAINT JOHN
Phyllis Sinclair
Awaiting my love, on the bank of the river
I search the horizon, for dark in the dawn
A top mast to rise, with cargo of sugar
For the salt fish and timber, that left from Saint John
A merchant marine man he called me his treasure
Rare gem unequalled save the jewels carried on
Billows and breaks off the crown of his pleasure
Sunrise and sunsets off the shore of Saint John
No Sapphire blue as the crest of the morning
No Ruby more gild as the scarlet bathed dawn
No kingdom with might as the tide of the Fundy
I await with the jewels on the crown of Saint John
By this Emerald Bay, await my returning
Words of his parting as the breeze sailed him on
Droplets of diamonds that blew on south wind
On the pool of his diademed prize of Saint John
No Sapphire blue as the crest of the morning
No Ruby more gild as the scarlet bathed dawn
No kingdom with might as the tide of the Fundy
I await with the jewels on the crown of Saint John
Oh billows of might, Ye fathoms of mercy
Up from the depths rain down Gilead’s balm
Safe passage bestow to my love on the South Seas
To the pearl of his pleasure, the waves of Saint John
No Sapphire blue as the crest of the morning
No Ruby more gild as the scarlet bathed dawn
No kingdom with might as the tide of the Fundy
I await with the jewels on the crown of Saint John
I await wit the jewels on the crown of Saint John
LOST FOR WORDS - Phyllis Sinclair
Got the news from you this morning
How quickly life can change without a single warning - took my blind side
I've searched for words that have some meaning
To make some sense of this confounding, hard revealing - but I'm speechless
Lost for words
But I wish you good, I wish you well
I wish you more that I can tell
I wish you strength, I wish you faith
I wish you more that I can say
I hope that all will turn out right
But all my words just sound so trite
I wish you well, as you can tell
I'm lost for words
Gallantry so far escapes me
Vacant words are not my style they leave you empty I'm so frustrated
I only hope my words unspoken
Will speak in ways that I can't find: my tongue is frozen Oh I'm speechless
Lost for Words
But I wish you good, I wish you well
I wish you more that I can tell
I wish you strength, I wish you faith
I wish you more that I can say
I hope that all will turn out right
But all my words just sound so trite
I wish you well, as you can tell
I'm lost for words
Are there really any words that could change the way things are?
If there were I'd find them search the world and farthest star
To make this all just some bad dream
Wake you with the words I deemed the ones
But the words I have sit dry upon my tongue
But I wish you good, I wish you well
I wish you more that I can tell
I wish you strength, I wish you faith
I wish you more that I can say
I hope that all will turn out right
But all my words just sound so trite
I wish you well, as you can tell
I'm lost for words
MARY JO - Phyllis Sinclair
Mary-Jo left Thompson this morning, Not a note, not a word of warning
She just packed her bags in the car and hit the road alone
Left the kids at the Strand theatre
With tear filled eyes she said “See you later”
Gave a kiss and a hug, and their shirts a tug
Though it broke her heart, she needs a brand new start
Mary-Jo, Mary-Jo
Mary-Jo I can’t understand it, Why they talk, and have you branded
For upholding the laws and defending a cause for the weak
esus said, “Let all men be brothers”
I’m sure he meant be fair to others
Not just to those of the status quo
Yet they criticize, they’ve ostracized Mary-Jo, Mary-Jo
Mary-Jo you see no dividers
No black or white, no wrong or righters
Mary-Jo they say you’re a sinner
I must confess I think that you’re a winner
Mary-Jo, Mary-Jo,
Mary-Jo you’re smart and a nine-er, But you feel like a nickel miner
Working underground, in the dark, chipping walls of stone
They seek for truth that’s why you forgive them
They have a right to what they believe in
Think they hold the key, so they just won’t see
I’m not her judge, can’t hold a grudge 'gainst
Mary-Jo, Mary-Jo
Mary-Jo you see no dividers
No black or white, no wrong or righters
Mary-Jo they say you’re a sinner
I must confess I think that you’re a winner Mary-Jo, Mary-Jo,
Mary-Jo yoMary Jo left Thompson this morning
FOUR DAYS IN GRONINGEN - Phyllis Sinclair
He would talk after supper for hours on end
Of a city in Holland he was sent to defend
He would stop for a moment and hum a few lines
Of a song that I knew back when I was a child
Then he’d say write the lines of this simple refrain
Of that song sung in Groningen upon my grave
On April 14th we moved in from the west
We were Calgary Highlanders just doing our best
To make way for the “Black Watch” to Groningen’s square
A mission of mercy with no time to spare
Awaiting deliverance from hungers strong hold
Wait the people of Groningen with skin to the bone
Combat was heavy that Friday- 15th
Shots rang from high towers down to the streets
Where we ran to take cover, on the dank air we choked
Our lungs filled with brick dust, burning flesh and gun smoke
As we fought for that city, ash fell like snow
While the people of Groningen huddled below
Four Days in Groningen, I’ll not forget
Four Days in Groningen, burn in my chest
And the song that was sung there in grateful refrain
After four days in Groningen yet here remain
Surrender can early that April 16th
The dark clouds had parted the rain and guns ceased
So we bandaged our wounded and we buried our pals
Handed out rations on the streets and canals
In the quiet of evening we whispered a prayer
For the comrades we lost there in Groningen’s square
But, the fourth day in Groningen burns like a lamp
When a choir of children came up to our camp
To thank us for freedom by singing a song
It was the singular song that they knew in our tongue
And I’ll always remember how sweetly they sang
That song so familiar as freedom bells rang
Four Days in Groningen, I’ll not forget
Four Days in Groningen, burn in my chest
And the song that was sung there in grateful refrain
After four days in Groningen yet here remain
I buried my Bobby one hot July day
And just as he asked me I wrote on his grave
Lines from that song that we’d sung through the years
That took on new meaning for my Robert H. Hird
When Groningen’s children in soft serenade
Thanked Canada’s soldiers with “Home on the Range”
Four Days in Groningen, I’ll not forget
Four Days in Groningen, burn in my chest
And the song that was sung there in grateful refrain
After four days in Groningen yet here remain
Home Home on the Range, where the deer and the antelope play
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word
And the skies are not cloudy all day
And the skies are not cloudy all day
