The Mourning Dove  Lyrics and music copyright 2025 by Mike Dampf
David Leadbitter on bass

At the river's edge, where small fry feed
there's that big blue heron in the pickerel weed
ravens rasp in cedar boughs
hanging on the line is a red, silk blouse

Can't you hear the neighbors, just downstream
big dogs bark, little girls scream
Back in town people act so strange
I'm just country, man and that won't change

When she left, last time around
I buried her dancing shoes in the ground
If she was here we'd be in love
asleep to the sound of The Mourning Dove

Haven't seen her in quite a while
She ran away, just like a child
I don't know who you could call
Seems the friends we had weren't mine at all



The Mourning Dove

Writing songs and kitchen party playing with my many musical friends ... pretty much sums it up.