1: Unconfirmed

 

Words: Cornelius Eady

Music: Bernie Heveron and Cornelius Eady

Arranged by Rough Magic

 

Step aside, step aside

Trouble’s coming, step aside

Step aside, step aside

Trouble’s coming, step aside.

 

Left, right, up down

Back and forth, town to town

I’m a torn coat, a wild seed

Unconfirmed, a bad breeze

 

I am a pilgrim on that lonesome highway

Beneath an endless sky

I am a pilgrim on that lonesome highway

Never thought I’d be that guy.

 

Left, right, up down

Back and forth, town to town

I’m a torn coat, a wild seed

Unconfirmed, a bad breeze

 

Step aside, step aside

Trouble’s coming, step aside

Step aside, step aside

Trouble’s coming, step aside.

 

Left, right, up down

Back and forth, town to town

I’m a torn coat, a wild seed

Unconfirmed, a bad breeze

 

I am the dust that stalls the engine

The grit that floats in your eye

I am the flat note in the choir

Never thought I’d be that guy

 

Left, right, up, down

Back and forth, town to town

I’m a torn coat, a wild seed

Unconfirmed, a bad breeze.

 

Step aside, step aside

Trouble’s coming, step aside

Step aside, step aside

Trouble’s coming, step aside.

 

Left, right, up down

Back and forth, town to town

I’m a torn coat, a wild seed

Unconfirmed, a bad breeze

 

2: Maumee Ruth

 

Poem: Sterling A. Brown

Music: Cornelius Eady

Arranged by Rough Magic

 

Might as well bury her

   And bury her deep

Might as well put her

   Where she can sleep

 

Might as well lay her

   Out in her shinny black

And for the love of God

   Not wish her back

 

Maum Sal may miss her—

   Maum Sal, she only ---

With no one now to scoff

   Sal may be lonely….

 

Nobody else there is

   Who will be caring

How rocky was the road

   For her wayfaring

 

Nobody be heeding in

   Cabin, or town

That she is lying here

   In her best gown

 

Boy that she suckled---

   How should he know,

Hiding in city holes

   Sniffling the ‘snow’?

 

And how should the news

   Pierce Harlem’s din,

To reach her baby gal,

   Sodden with gin?

 

To cut her withered heart

   They cannot come again,

Preach her the lies about

   Jordan, and then

 

Might as well drop her

   Deep in the ground

Might as well pray for her

   That she sleep sound

 

3: Twilight Is The Hour

 

Words and Music: Cornelius Eady

Arranged by Rough Magic

 

The lamps in Bryant Park glow like fireflies

Duende floats under the trees.

A group of poets sing the blues

To fill in the space where you ought to be

 

Twilight is the hour of the Motherless Child

Another man gone, gone down that lonesome mile.

Twilight is the hour.

 

There’s a tongue we use to let things go

There’s a song that we shake at danger.

There’s a way to wash a body down,

Even if he’s a stranger.

 

Twilight is the hour of the Motherless Child

Another man gone, gone down that lonesome mile

Twilight is the hour.

 

There are words we spin to shadow a hearse,

A prayer to un-jumble the mad universe.

The poets breathe Trayvon into the wind.

It could happen to you like it happened to him.

 

    For Trayvon Martin

 

4: Leaving Sickness

 

Words and Music: Cornelius Eady

Arranged by Rough Magic

 

Can’t tell the wind

From the breeze

Can’t tell the forest

From the trees

Can’t tell a diamond

From a stone

Can’t tell a snake

From a bone.

 

You give me

Leaving sickness

 

Can’t tell piss

From the rain

Can’t tell a dummy

From a brain

Can’t tell happy

From a drag

Can’t tell a silk scarf

From a rag.

 

You give me

Leaving sickness

 

Can’t tell hunger

From a piece of pie

Can’t tell truth

From a pack of lies

Can’t tell love

From a kick in the ass

Can’t tell your future

From my past.

 

You give me

Leaving sickness

 

Can’t tell a wise man

From a fool

Can’t tell a teacher

From a school

Can’t tell a switch blade

From a tool

Can’t tell a shark tank

From a wading pool

 

You give me

Leaving sickness.

 

Can’t tell a sinner

From a priest

Can’t tell a bullet

From total peace

Can’t tell what’s living

From what’s deceased.

Can’t tell gristle

From a piece of meat.

 

You give me

Leaving sickness.

 

Can’t tell champagne

From soda pop

Can’t tell love

From a broken heart

Can’t tell a doodle

From a piece of art

Can’t tell what’s started

From what’s stopped

 

You gave me

Leaving sickness.

 

5: Painting Song

 

Words: Cornelius Eady

Music: Cornelius Eady and Rough Magic

Arranged by Rough Magic

 

There’s a sea in a bottle,

There are pigs in the sky.

There are clouds where your lungs were,

But don’t ask me why.

 

You just do what you have to,

You just see what you see.

Scratch your head, if you want to,

Makes no difference to me.

 

I’m unscrambling my head,

Painting, painting

Decoding what the light just said,

Painting, painting

Pushing breath through my brush

Filling in the blanks, as we must.

 

Maybe you’d like a postcard,

Or a slap on the back.

You made the wrong turn, buddy,

Your trains on the wrong track.

 

You keep looking for Whistler,

You get ghouls at the mall.

A woman’s accusations,

Holy warts, and all.

 

I’m unscrambling my head,

Painting, painting

Decoding what the light just said,

Painting, Painting

Pushing breath through my brush,

Filling in the blanks, as we must.

 

You just do what you have to,

You just see what you see.

Scratch your head, if you want to,

It’s just music to me.

 

                         For Susan Micklem

 

6: A Poet Forgets His Library

        For Jack Agueros

 

Words: Cornelius Eady

Music: Bernie Heveron

Arranged by Rough Magic

 

Look at all those lovely books.

What are all those books to me?

Words are wriggle-fish in an endless sea.

I over-hear them talking,

Sometimes I think

They’re talking about me.

 

All this time, all this time

All this time at sea.

They say it has no memory.

A poet forgets his library.

 

Something was written long ago.

A voice I should know says it was written by me.

Something like a hymn, almost holy song,

Some face on the cover, but they’ve

Got it all wrong.

Tell me what this nonsense

Has to do with me?

 

All this time, all this time

All this time at sea.

They say it has no memory.

A poet forgets his library.

 

My name they say, is a man beloved,

A man with a printed history.

Here I sit, and here they try

To read it back to me.

What’s this accusation? 

The hell is poetry?

 

All this time, all this time

All this time at sea.

They say it has no memory.

A poet forgets his library.

 

7: Last Known Address

 

Words and Music: Cornelius Eady

Arranged by Rough Magic

 

John Snowden’s been pardoned

Where can we find him?

Deep in the woods, down some gully

Wind, lifting leaves

In some Potter’s field

 

Send the news to the ones

He loved best

Mail the letter

To his last known address.

 

John Snowden’s been pardoned

Who’s gonna tell him?

The un-mowed grass

On his un-marked grave,

The butterflies floating

Heavy with nectar.

 

Send the news to the ones

He loved best

Mail the letter

To his last known address

 

John Snowden’s been pardoned

Who’ll say we’re sorry?

Maryland then ain’t Maryland now,

A white girl’s dress

Was a black man’s burden.

 

Send the news to ones

He loved best

Mail the letter

To his last known address

 

John Snowden been pardoned

His hard times are over

A black man dead since 1919

A free man now,

He’s a free man now.

 

Send the news to the ones

He loved best

Mail the letter

To his last known address

 

John Snowden’s been pardoned

The insult forgiven

The technicality of a wandering eye

The skin that couldn’t hold

His alibi.

 

Send the news to the ones

He loved best

Mail the letter

To his last known address.