I'm back!!

Been gone from the blog for about two months......work, family, church.....
It's Easter Weekend and with the surge of Spring has come a renewal of inspiration:

Here is part of what I've been working on: a new project reflective of my beginnings and my country of origin. It's going to be an original "Folk" Cd with songs about my heritage and my memories of growing up in Devon.

Here are two lyrics entitled "Doublewaters" and "The Beating of Drake's drum" for your perusal:

Doublewaters

Down the path to Doublewaters,
Calling wayward dogs to heel,
Dashing sons and dainty daughters,
Gorse and brackened games conceal,
Grazing Dartmoor ponies nodding,
As if recalling Spring's first foal,
Honeysuckled air infusing,
Joy into our weary soul.

On Bodmin moor June’s sun is setting,
Tin mine towers in sharp relief,
Through the mottled woodlands streaming,
Shafts of evening’s golden sheaf,
Sound of pebbled waters rising,
Beckon weary walkers on,
First embracing then refreshing,
Two streams reach for Tamar’s run.

Now in memory returning
To my childhood days of grace,
Ever youthful ever yearning,
To walk again in sacred space.

Every Sunday through the summer,
City dwellers park their cars,
Sipping tea midst idle chatter,
Watching hikers from afar,
Disappear into the distance,
T’ward the valley far below,
Barely noting their existence,
Emerging later face aglow.

Jonathan Patrick Moore C 2006

The Beating of Drake’s Drum

At the Westerly Approaches, Spanish galleons appear,
Their intent to wrest our freedom, men of England have no fear,
Our bold Captain and commander, none can match his heart so true,
He has time to play the game boys, and defeat the Spaniards too.
In a time of mortal danger, Lo the foreign forces come,
We will summon strength of heart boys, at the beating of Drake's drum.

Wellington standing defiant, 'gainst the brash Napoleon,
Sailing out of Plymouth Harbor, with the pride of England’s men,
We will give to him no quarter, till our freedom is assured,
We have muskets at the ready, true of aim and swift of sword,
Where the courage to defend her, when the darkest dangers come,
There's a sound that stirs our hearts boys, 'tis the beating of Drake's drum

Now our finest lie besieged, upon the sand of Dunkirk beach,
Every fisherman of England, rescue is within your reach,
Man the boats and pray for favor, help them fight another day,
In this hour of present danger, God will speed you on your way,
Draw your strength from men of yore, Every hindrance overcome,
Listen now O men of England, hear the beating of Drake's drum.

Anytime these shores are threatened by a diabolic foe,
When dark clouds are gathering and fear consumes the nations soul,
If amid the sounds of bustle coursing through our city streets,
You might hear the whispers of a catalog of past defeats,
Then I pray you listen closer for another sound to come,
Listen for the heart of England, hear the beating of Drake’s drum.

Jonathan Patrick Moore C 2006