I was just listening to my husband’s songs on my computer (yes, I really do that) and I came across one that I had forgotten about. It’s called The Hand That Plowed. I’m putting it up on a Tuesday because I want you to have a chance to listen to it and tell your friends about it so they can listen to it in time for Memorial Day. I think it’s a beautiful tribute to all the men and women who have died for our country’s freedom. Regardless of your political beliefs, there are men and women that have always answered the call to stand up and fight when our country has needed it knowing that it may be the last thing they do on this earth. For that I say, thank you.

If you know anyone that you think would be touched by this song, send them over. I’m posting the lyrics only because I don’t want you to miss a single word. You can critique if you want, but this isn’t really about putting a song out there for critique, it’s about giving honor. So enjoy your family this weekend and take a minute to thank God for the freedom we have that someone else gave their life for. I’ll post again on Tuesday.

The Hand That Plowed

For every harvest gathered in there was a hand that plowed
For every laureled champion a wealth of work endowed
For every man in history that walked uncharted lands
There was to urge his infant steps a parent’s open hands

A banner waved a banner burned a soldier ‘neath a cross
And every mighty victory a mother’s painful loss
Since time began until the end the laws of living last
Every good and precious thing owes something to the past

So here’s to you our fearless sons our fallen ones
And those who still remain
Photographs and memories may fade away
But never freedom’s flame

For every dark and dreaded night there is a coming morn
In every time of tragedy a hero’s strength is born
For every soul who shrinks in fear God calls the one who will
And through the raging flames of strife truth comes marching still

So here’s to you our fearless sons our fallen ones
And those who still remain
Photographs and memories may fade away
But never freedom’s flame

So sing the song of spacious skies and mountain’s majesty
Sing about the fruited plains from sea to shining sea
But when you sing these noble words remember with no doubt
For every amber wave of grain there was a hand that plowed

Okay, here’s the deal. I just got back from a 4 day women’s retreat and I’m exhausted. I just picked a random song from my husband’s stash that’s lighthearted and fun and doesn’t require any analyzing. And no lyrics, either, because I’m too tired to find them and write them out.

Well, I guess I can add Let’r Burn to the list of songs you wouldn’t want on a cd someday. You never really know how people are going to react to a song. But, that’s why we’re here, isn’t it

Now, this week we’re going to do things a little differently. I’m not going to include the lyrics for you to read while you listen. I think we’re all using the left side of our brains a little too much. My husband told me that the A and R guys in Nashville don’t ever read the lyrics of a song while they’re listening to it because it causes the left side of their brain to take over and makes it hard for the right side of the brain to hear the song as a whole. That’s not my way of telling you to take it easy on your critiques. I just think you might notice a difference in how you hear a song, if you listen without having to read or process anything. Let me know if you notice a difference.

This week’s song is called These Women of Ours. I thought about releasing it early for Mother’s Day, but I am a mother and I just didn’t have time between taking a Mother’s Day nap and not cooking dinner for my family. I took a holiday from everything! It’s not just for mothers, either. It’s a tribute to all womankind. (And you’ll be happy to know there’s not a “misogynistic” line in the whole song!) By the way, Happy Mother’s Day, a little late.

My husband finally got his music program to work so he could give me the song for this week. The song I really wanted to post is going to have to wait because it is brand new and the tweaks are still being worked out. Sometimes that can drag out for a while. And then there’s the actual recording of the song. I sometimes forget that my husband not only spends countless hours writing a song, he then has to learn to play and sing it well enough to record it. Maybe in a few weeks. We’ll see.

I asked about the last song, Rusty Red Wagon , and it turns out there’s really nothing exciting about the creation of it. It was one of those songs that came as a melody first and then over a couple of weeks the lyrics came. Even though there’s no real story behind it, I still find it fascinating that he can create something like that out of nothing.

Well, let’s get to it. This week’s song is called Let’r Burn. Here it is…

John Deere poppin’ throuth a cotton field years ago
Ridin’ on my daddy’s lap only six years old
Cotton bale burnin’, on fire on the edge of the field
"Look over there Daddy. Whatta we do?" I yelled
“Son”, he said, “One thing ‘bout cotton you’ll learn
Let ‘r burn”

Chorus
Cause a little bit of fire ain’t much of a bother
But some you’ll find just keep gettin’ hotter (uh huh)
Sometimes it just ain’t worth the trouble
Like Nero playin’ a song on his fiddle
While Rome burned down to smolderin’ rubble (uh huh)
Sometimes it just ain’t worth the cryin’
Might as well stand back and let fate have it’s turn
Let ’r burn

Headin’ into town, me and Daddy in the old Ford truck
On the side of road was a man with trouble enough
Cadillac burnin’, fire comin’ out of the hood
Hewas slappin’ with his coat but it really not doin’ much good
Daddy said, "Man, get back ‘fore you get burned.
Let’r burn"

Chorus

My grown son called me the other day a little upset
Said, "Daddy it’s bad. She’s mad and a throwin’ a fit
Tried perfume, jewelry, sweet talk and roses, too
I’ve tried everything I know, what can I do"
"Son" I said "one thing about a woman you’ll learn
Everything’s just fine
Just give her time
Just let’r burn"

Chorus

We’re having computer problems. The new song will be up late this morning.

Wow! Last week’s song, while obviously not one of your favorites, sure did spur some debate among commenters. Let me assure you, I am very confident in who I am as not only a wife, but a mother, a daughter, a friend, a cook, maid and even a taxi driver. The list goes on and on. I know that God has designed me with a specific purpose in mind and while I may feel a little used and abused having to give to so many people with so little reward (that I can see right now), God is moving me daily into my destiny and I am proud of where He has placed me and the job He has called me to do. There. Does that make you feel better?

As far as that song is concerned, it was just a light-hearted song meant to paint a picture of what our bedtime ritual often looked like at the time. Our son was really into cowboys and indians and our daughter was, and still is, into angels and princesses. My husband loves to tell bedtime stories so it was only natural that he write a song about it. And yes, that’s their voices. I really cherish it because of that.

My part is kind of hard to listen to because I hate the sound of my own voice. It makes me cringe! And if you knew me, you’d know that winning a beauty pageant is not on my short list of things to do before I die. It didn’t even make the long list! I appreciated the compliment, though. I know that beauty pageants are kind of dying out, but my husband thought it would be a compliment to suggest that I took first prize. He’s sweet like that.

Now, to this week’s song, Rusty Red Wagon. It’s a little on the sad side but it’s not one that I ever get tired of. I’ll tell you more about it next week. Let’s just give it a listen, shall we?

Rusty Red Wagon

My shiny red wagon I left behind Daddy’s car
Crushed down he showed it to me
And I started to cry but he said,

“Toughen up now boy, you’re ok.”

And I was told that life goes on
despite the pain

A little bit older playin’ ball with my brothers
A grounder popped up in my face
And I teared up a little, but Daddy said,
“Suck it up, you’re ok.”

And I was told that big boys don’t cry
They hide the pain

Hey diddle diddle, cats don’t play fiddles
And cows never jump to the moon
Why can’t a boy cry for his Radio Flyer
Why should he grow up so soon

Wouldn’t you know it was cloudy and cold
When they buried my daddy that day
And I tried and I tried cause I loved that old guy
But no tears came

No birds sang, the sky was gray
That heavy day

Hey diddle diddle, cats don’t play fiddles
And cows never jump to the moon
Why can’t a boy cry for his Radio Flyer
Why should he grow up so soon

As we were leaving our black limousine
Passed the caretaker’s house on the right
And there on his porch was a rusty red wagon with flowers inside
And up above a welcome sun began to shine
And thirty years of held back tears began to slide

Welcome to week three. I’ve got a new song to share with you, but first I’ll give you a little bit of background information on last week’s song, Say The Word. This song was written about 6 years ago and it started with a melody. Often times, my husband will come up with a melody first. This song’s melody was kind of bluesy and so the lyrics came out of that. My husband likes to say that some melodies have stories locked up in them. And sometimes you get it right and sometimes you don’t. I think he got it right on this one.

Also, while I have your attention, how do you feel about the once a week postings? Is it a little too infrequent? For me, it feels like forever getting from one Monday to the next. Would you like to hear from me more than once a week? I could go on and on about the music industry and about my husband’s experiences, but that might muddy the experiment. But then again, I’m not really a white lab coat, petri dish kind of girl, so I’d be ok with it if you are.

Now, about this week’s song. I think you’re gonna want to let the kids hear this one. It’s more country sounding, so if you’re not into country, well, just go ahead and listen. You might like it. And in case you’re wondering, it’s one that was recorded in Nashville with studio musicians.

Once Upon a Time

Once upon a time there was this girl of mine
And she was pretty as an angel
And so one night upon a dream she flew away
Up to the Milky Way

There were stars up there and they said, “Oh my dear
She must’ve fallen down from heaven”
When old Mr. Moon came ’round he said, “Well, well
This here’s a real angel”
“No” she said with a laugh and a smile “I’m just my daddy’s girl”

Once upon a time there was this boy of mine
And he was brave and tough as leather
And so one day in our back yard
He came upon cowboys and indians

The cowboys needed help they were all out of shells
And so with just his daisy rifle, he sent those braves a runnin’
The cowboys jumped for joy
They hollered, “Thank you, Roy”
“No” he said as he galloped away “I’m just my daddy’s boy”

Once upon a time there was this wife of mine
And she was shopping at a big mall
While lookin’ for a bathroom walked right through a door
Onto a big stage floor

It was a beauty show
The judges all said, “Whoa”
And they declared she was the winner
And all the other women cried and hugged her tight
Music and flashing lights
“No” she said with a blush and a smile “I’m just my husband’s wife”

Hey, it’s new music Monday! Thanks for coming back. First, here’s a little bit of history on last week’s song. While on a trip to Nashville, my husband was staying at the Day’s Inn on Broadway Street when he saw a documentary on PBS about sharecroppers. Lying there on that hard mattress in his underwear, he got the inspiration for the whole song. Somewhere, scrawled on a Day’s Inn notepad is the basic outline for it. If I can find it, I’ll post a picture. It ended up being one of those songs that he says almost “wrote itself.” (My husband would like to add that unless you’re on a really tight budget, don’t stay at the Day’s Inn on Broadway!)

And now for this week’s experiment. The title for this song is Say The Word. It’s a bit heavy, but I wanted you to hear one that wasn’t so country. Like many of my husband’s songs, it has a Nashville version that has a lot of bells and whistles but I like the simple version that I heard first. I hope you will, too.

Be sure to comment. We’re reading them all!

Say The Word

A busy airport on a Sunday afternoon
I went to see her off – the least that I could do
‘Cause there were dreams I had and fortunes to be made
And her love was in my way

As I watched her slowly walk toward the gate
Somethin’ deep inside woke up and called her name
She turned her hopeful eyes and through the tears that bled
This is what she said…

CHORUS:
Say the word and I would give to you my life
Say the word and I am your’s until the day you die
But I just stood there while my pride got in the way
And I still regret today the words I didn’t say

I heard someone in Denver made her smile again
And now she’s got his name and kids that look like him
And I got my fortune – more than I could ever need
But Denver’s got my dreams

REPEAT CHORUS

BRIDGE:
All the choices I have made
All that could have been
A thousand dreams have haunted me
I try to speak, but she just says again…

REPEAT CHORUS

Okay, I know it isn’t Monday yet, but I just had to tell everyone how much I appreciate your comments! I’ve even caught my husband checking them out. And he’s mulling them over, too. So if you’ve ever wanted to have an influence on radio, this is your chance! It’s nice to have feedback given by someone other than your relatives and hear comments other than, “Who could not like your music? You’re the best songwriter the world has never known.”

Seriously, your comments are very insightful. I’m working hard to narrow down next week’s song. It’s been a hard decision. I realize that some of you aren’t big country music fans and to tell you the truth, my husband and I really don’t listen to it much ourselves. It just so happens to be the genre that his music fits into best. Sometimes he’ll make a song that is not necessarily country sound more so to appeal to that market. So I think I’ll pick something that is more middle-of-the-road, as far as the genre.

Overall, I think it’s been a good first couple of days. I really didn’t know what to expect and I’ve been pleasantly surprised. We’ve gotten a lot of constructive criticism but nothing really negative. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that!) You’re a very generous group when it comes to compliments!

And now, I’m going to go get some much-needed sleep. The last couple of days have been pretty exciting and I’m a little behind in that area! Until Monday…

P.S. If you’re a first time visitor, go here for the full story.

Can someone objectively listen to a song, not knowing who the writer or artist is or what kind of success they’ve had, and with no expectations formulate an opinion about the song alone?
Would any songwriter ever subject himself to such an open forum?

Welcome to the Songwriter’s Experiment. Thanks for stopping by. I am a 30 something homemaker with four kids and the wife of a wonderfully interesting man. My husband runs a home-based business and has always provided for his family. He coaches his son’s Little League team, runs the sound at our church, and is on the school board. But what I want to discuss here is his gift for writing songs.

Let me start with a little bit of history. My husband has had some success in the music business. Enough success to pay off some debt and invest in his home business. We have decided, however, that moving to a major music city is not something we want to do, even if it means less exposure for him. We have close family ties where we live and that’s very important to us and our kids.

What he has found, in his dealings with the music industry, is that sometimes it matters more who you are and what you’ve done, than the actual song itself. And yet, some people in the industry say, “It’s all about the song.” Well, which is it?

That’s where you come in. All I want from you is a few minutes, to listen to a song and maybe another minute to comment on what you hear. I’ll post a new song every Monday. We’ll call it New Music Monday. If you like what you hear, or even if you don’t, let me know in the comments section, and come back the next week to hear another. It’s simple, really.

I’ll tell you right now that my husband does not have a CD of his music that can be bought. Most of his songs were recorded using his home recording equipment and the thought of those songs being heard by a lot of people without being mastered makes him cringe! I guess it would be like me speaking in front of a large group of people in my pj’s and no makeup! But this is my thing, and if the song is the most important thing, then it won’t matter how professional it sounds.

Another thing, I want this to be as close to a true experiment as possible. You may hear the song and think “Hey, I know that guy. He’s so and so from so and so.” If you do, wish him luck and keep it to yourself! Seriously, in order for this to work, it needs to be kept as anonymous as possible.

So, let’s find out if it really is “all about the song.” I hope you enjoy this first one.

Here’s the lyrics in case you don’t catch all the words:

Sharecropper’s Son

Down south back in ‘63
Where the cotton is white but there ain’t much green
An old sharecropper and his family
Coolin’ off one summer night

Young man ‘bout seventeen
Pluckin’ on a banjo high and sweet
His daddy lookin’ on proud as could be
But he wore a troubled smile

Stood up and walked inside
The old screen door slapped shut behind
Came back in a little while
With a rusty coffee can

Said, “Boy this is all I’ve ever saved
I’s hopin’ to buy this land someday
But dirt cost more‘n I’ll ever make
So do the best you can.”

Chorus:
(And He Said…)
Run run and don’t look back
You ain’t never gonna drag another cotton sack
Me and your Mamma gonna be alright
Just run Sonny, run

Be free to find your dreams
Like a bayou finds the sea
Don’t tell nobody that you used to be
A sharecropper’s son

Pretty soon he was travelin’ round
Double thumb chuckin’ in a Jackson band
And all who saw him always said
He’s the best they’d ever heard

Went to Nashville and made a name
His hot lick pickin’ soon brought him fame
But still each night in his lonely dreams
He heard his daddy’s words

Repeat Chorus

Walkin’ out of a bank one day
Was a good-lookin’ man in a suit of suede
With a hat pulled down over his face
And a land deed in his hand

Old man barely hangin’ on
Folks gathered ’round he was almost gone
Sonny took his hat off and kneeled down low
Beside the old man’s bed
Held that deed up and read the words
Then he softly said

Daddy run, run and don’t look back
You ain’t never gonna drag another cotton sack
Me and Momma gonna be alright
Just run, Daddy run
Be free to find your dreams
Like a bayou finds the sea
I’m gonna tell everybody that I’m proud to be
A sharecropper’s son

Repeat chorus