FENCEPOSTS AND STONES LYRICS
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?
Phyllis Sinclair Music resides on Treaty 6 territory, the traditional home and gathering place of the Cree, Saulteaux, Blackfoot, Metis, Inuit, Dene and Nakota Sioux. We acknowledge those peoples who shared, and cared, for these sacred lands since time immemorial to allow for our lives and livelihoods.
Phyllis Sinclair, Songkeeper Woman
ᓂᑲᒧᓇᐦ ᑲᑲᓇᐍᓂᑕᐠ ᐁᐢᑵᐤ
2024© Phyllis Sinclair