Cove Me

Nature

David Rhodes Brown

© Copyright 2007, 2015 Peter Lloyd

A stranger as cold as the winter that bore him
Walked up to our church all alone
The long, snow-capped roof, shingles of grey
Old walls and worn steps of stone

Why he stopped only God knows, but he lingered outside
And gazed at the sign on our door
It's hung there forever and there it'll stay
For its few words are hard to ignore

I went out to greet him, a lost soul to save
But he shot me a terrified eye 
"Don't try to save me," he warned, "It's no use
"I'm just looking for a warm place to die"

	No arches of marble, no statues of gold
	Just a home for the hearts of her people
	The sign on the door says "There's room for one more"
	The church with the styrofoam steeple

"Our chapel is humble, but it's warm," I replied
"And you're welcome to rest here a while"
We walked up together as he shivered and coughed
He entered without even a smile

I'd hoped to unburden the stranger that night
As I brought him hot coffee, I said
"If you won't let me help you at least tell me why 
"You think that you're better off dead"

"Maybe you know me," he began, "maybe you don't
"But my name's been all over the news
"I've hobnobbed with kings back in my better days
"When this old church cost less than my shoes

	No arches of marble, no statues of gold
	Just a home for the hearts of her people
	The sign on the door says "There's room for one more"
	The church with the styrofoam steeple

"I've preached in cathedrals under spires of gold
"Looking down on my flock from my throne
"But the uncommon love I bore witness to there
"I'm afraid I never have known

"So would you please oblige me one pure act of love
"Take this pistol and prove that you care
"Agree to this kindness, no strings attached
"Lift my burden of hopeless despair"

"I'll hold the gun with you," I promised the stranger
"If you'll bow your head with me and pray"
But his body had already slumped in my arms
As the gun's report echoed away

	No arches of marble, no statues of gold
	Just a home for the hearts of her people
	The sign on the door says "There's room for one more"
	The church with the styrofoam steeple

Did I pull the trigger? The judge says I did
Powder burns marked both our hands
But the Lord does his work in mysterious ways
And love makes peculiar demands

	No arches of marble, no statues of gold
	Just a home for the hearts of her people
	The sign on the door still says "There's room for one more"
	The church with the styrofoam steeple

The Church with the Styrofoam Steeple

© Copyright 2006, 2015 Peter Lloyd
Produced and performed by Jason Ayers
                          
Summer sun’s a-fadin’ heavy clouds are laden
Rain’s comin’ down every day
Buried deep in slumber, yellow, orange, and umber
August has faded away

Dreary days are comin’ pleasant thoughts succumbin’ 
Winter’s up to stealin’ the light
Chilly breezes speedin’ all the birds a-heedin’ 
September’s last call to take flight

Bye, bye, blue summer sky
Give my love to July

It was laughin’ kids a-runnin’ pretty girls a-sunnin’
Now it’s bundle up and bring out the kites
October’s leaves a-dyin’ November snows a-flyin’
December means the longest of nights

Aw, and January hurts, but February’s worse
‘Till March summons spring from her grave
 April spills her showers, May parades her flowers
June returns the long days we crave

Bye, bye, blue summer sky
Give my love to July

Leave me alone, I’m feelin’ so sad 
I just left the best Summer I ever had

It was neighbors outside talkin’ lovin’ couples walkin’
Now the “Howdy-do”s get stuck my throat
As the bitter winds of winter like a thousand metal splinters 
Cut through the weave of my coat

Bye, bye, blue summer sky
Give my love to July


Leave me alone, I’m fixin’ to cry 
I can’t stand to see such a sweet summer die

                               
Summer sun’s a-fadin’ heavy clouds are laden
Rain’s comin’ down every day
Buried deep in slumber, yellow, orange, and umber
August has faded away

Bye, bye, blue summer sky
Give my love
Give my love
Give my love to July

Give My Love to July

© Copyright 2007, 2015 Peter Lloyd

It's hard for me to smile when you're looking so lonely
It's hard for me to laugh when you're feeling blue
It just might take a while to show you it's never as dark as it seems
But I'll be right by your side  until you're dancing your dreams

I'll hold you while you cry when your poor heart gets broken
I'll laugh with you again when you're on the mend
I know you'll find a way to laugh down your troubles in all their extremes
And it's never hard to smile  while you're dancing your dreams

Let me see your big bright smile like the sun coming up over the sea
Whistle me a tune, spin around the room
Like you do when you're laughing with me

Who could see you smile and not want to smile with you?
Who could hear you laugh and not laugh along?
The world's already cried enough tears to overflow all of her streams
We need to hear your song  and see you dancing your dreams

Let me see your big bright smile like the sun coming up over the sea
Whistle me a tune, spin around the room
Like you do when you're laughing at me

Who could see you smile and not want to smile with you?
Who could hear you laugh and not laugh along?
The world's already cried enough tears to overflow all of her streams
We need to hear your song  and see you dancing your dreams

Let us hear your song  and see you dancing your dreams
It's time to hear your song  and see you dancing your dreams

Dancing Your Dreams

©Copyright 1973, 2015 Peter Lloyd

You can take my shoes, you can drink my soup
I no longer lock my door at night
Here the moon comes up when the sun goes down
And the mountains roll ‘round the thunder clouds
While the river, she winds her way behind

It’s like beautiful, beautiful music
Mellowed in the Appalachian way
Folks come and go, but these mountains kow
That you take a bluegrass tune down to your grave

When Tom Gentry died, I cried and cried
Then one night I heard his voice below the ground
I said, “Oh, Tom, you make such a sweet, bright sound.
Can you tell me, my old partner, what have you found?”
And he sang these words I’m singing to you

It’s like beautiful, beautiful music
Mellowed in the Appalachian way
Folks come and go, but these mountains know
That you take a bluegrass tune down to your grave

When my stories are all told and my bones are cold
And all that’s left is an empty rocking chair
Won’t you wrap me up and carry me down
Cover me over with that sweet, black ground        
And pick a bluegrass tune above my head

It’s like beautiful, beautiful music
Mellowed in the Appalachian way
Folks come and go, but these mountains know
That you take a bluegrass tune down to your grave

Folks come and they go
But these mountains stay right here and they know
That you can take a bluegrass tune down to your grave
Yes, you take them bluegrass tunes down to your grave

Bluegrass Music

In the leafy crown of Northern Argentina
Like a slow-motion ballerina
She climbs, she cries, “Ah-ee! Ah-ee! Ah-ee! Ah-ee! Ah-ee!”
Her plea penetrates the forest, high and low
“Please wrap your limbs around me, only if you have three toes.”
Not so far away, hanging from a tree limb
He hears her cry. She does not see him
He turns her way, hoping this will be his lucky day

Descending in a flurry as quickly as he can, two hundred yards a day He drags himself across the tangled forest floor
She’s waiting patiently for him to reach her
Sloths come from near, they come from far
He’s pulling hard so he can be the first to climb into her tree. He wins! Out of breath from the race, he reduces his pace
Upside-down, they embrace, coupled, dangling in space
Once again face-to-face, all night long they linger, two as one
Too rapt to move a finger, not until the deed is done

In the dreamy, steamy crown of Northern Argentina
He rests, breathing gently in and out like virtuoso-mellowed concertina Bugs and algae call his coat home, he does not mind them
Harpy eagles hunt and jaguars prowl, they’ll never find him
He sleeps eighteen hours a day. Why on earth would he stray?
He’s got insects to eat, buds and leaves for a treat
So contented that he never has to worry where to be
He feels no need to hurry, not until she cries, “Ah-ee!”

Life would be so sweet, hanging by your feet Just like a three-toed sloth
No, he never has to hurry, not until he hears her plea, “Ah-ee!”

Day In The Life Of A Three-toed Sloth

© Copyright 1973, 2022 Victor Harrison and Peter Lloyd

Four little fishies in a red, hot bowl
Two got rhythm and two got soul
When along come a tomcat with bright, white teeth 
Long, sharp claws slippin’ outa they sheath
And he say, “Let me teach you fish how to dance!” Gulp!

Three little fishies in a red, hot bowl
Two got rhythm and one got soul
When up jump the tomcat in one fell swoop 
Takes another helping of that gold fish soup Gulp!
And all of a sudden the soul fishy cries

“Oh I-yi think it's cri-yime! We’re still in our pri-yime
Let’s rock this little pond, roll this little bowl 
Shake the lake while we’ve still got ti-yime”

Two little fishies in a red, hot bowl
One got rhythm and the other got soul
When whoop go the tomcat as quick as a wink 
Scoop some more sole food right outa the drink Gulp!
And all of a sudden the rhythm fish cries

“Oh I-yi think it's cri-yime! We’re still in our pri-yime
Let’s rock this little pond, roll this little bowl 
Shake the lake while we’ve still got ti-yime”

No more fishies in that red, hot bowl
Just one cat left with his tummy full
He’s sufflin’ about just as happy as can be
Singin’ “I got four fish dancin’ rock ‘n’ roll inside of me 

Be bop a shoo be do wha. I do like fish!”

I'm Not From Around Here

Ahdoolak Fish Shuffle

Words and music copyright by David Rhodes Brown and Peter Lloyd

Welcome to America

Words and music © Copyright 2006, 2015 Peter Lloyd
Performed by my dear, long-time buddy, David Rhodes Brown

Cut a little bait, rig a little pole
Drive out on the lake, drill a little hole 
Ice fishin’, ice fishin’ 

Catch a mess of perch, throw ‘em in a pan 
Cook ‘em up and eat as many as you can 
Ice fishin’, ice fishin’ 

Nothin’ puts your mind at ease
Like ice and sky as far as your eyes can see 

Your toes as warm as toast, ‘spite what you’ve been told 
Fish are always fresh, beer is always cold
Ice fishin’, ice fishin’ 

Head back to the shack, play a little cards 
Drink a little whiskey, smoke a few cigars 
Ice fishin’, ice fishin’ 

Nothin’ puts your mind at ease
Like ice and sky as far as your eyes can see 

Cut a little bait, rig a little pole
Drive out on the lake, drill a little hole 
Ice fishin’, ice fishin’ 

Ice fishin’, ice fishin’

Ice Fishin'

Words and music by Peter Lloyd © Copyright 2006, 2015 Peter Lloyd

Look outside my door, sun is shinin' bright 
What's the sun good for? Might as well be night
Ain't it plain to see I miss Marie

Left without a trace, why I'll never know 
Still I see her face everywhere I go 
Where can she be I miss Marie

I sit here reminiscin’ 'bout the huggin' and the kissin' 
She swore would never end
Nobody wants to listen but a part of me is missin' 
And I need some time to mend

Now it's time to go to the Town Hall Dance Me 
I'm layin' low, I don't stand a chance 
Everyone will see I miss Marie

I sit here reminiscin 'bout the huggin' and the kissin' 
She swore would never end
Nobody wants to listen but a part of me is missin' 
So why should I pretend?

Look inside my door. What an awful sight 
Lying on the floor, I'll be here all night
Ain’t it plain to see, I miss Marie

Well, it's plain to me I miss Marie

I Miss Marie

Songwriter since 1966. Can't believe I still have to write protest songs. Prefer writing love songs and songs of praise for stand-up women and men, parodies, lyrical nonsense, blues and adaptations.